Walking on the Estuary Hill Adrian Green The curlew and the heron call, the hissing mud and whispering wings beat eery through the idle air until the moonlit midnight silence falls and then the tide flows softly through the gut and sluice of estuary sands...
Luna Lake Haiku Adrian Green New moon on the lake. Your voice and the nightingale serenade springtime. Full moon on the lake. Your voice and the waterbirds celebrate summer. Old moon on the lake. Owls hunting autumnal food your voice still singing.
Pink Champagne (for Digby Fairweather) Adrian Green Not blues in twelve but there is joy and pink champagne, the maker”s music trading eights in syncopated synergy from Dixieland to Rock “n” Roll, and here the cornet-master leads in tones a trumpet cannot blow. The sidemen...
String Bass Adrian Green Some like to dominate, others caress a voluptuous rhythm on pliant strings. This pulse drives life through wanton counterpoint, the heart and harmony of things.
Mirror Adrian Green There are no lies in the morning no cheating of age an illusion of eye smoothing skin over bone. No portrait hidden away becoming skeletal and demanding release. Another day to face, my confessor, so laugh at this charting of years.
The Tenor Man Adrian Green Pottering around the stage, a hyperactive ancient in his own backyard independent of the band it seems. Disrhythmic shuffling of ashtray, beer, a pack of cigarettes, adjusting microphones, then in the middle eight he draws, exhales, and catches breath, stoops...
Bluenote Time Adrian Green In the soft jazz and midnight hour your eyes are dancing close to mine a sway of hips, a touch of lips while on the stand piano player”s fingers dance around the tune above a gentle touch caressing music from the...
A Prayer For Artemis Aeschylus STROPHE IV Though Zeus plan all things right, Yet is his heart’s desire full hard to trace; Nathless in every place Brightly it gleameth, e’en in darkest night, Fraught with black fate to man’s speech-gifted race. ANTISTROPHE IV Steadfast, ne’er...
Warning To The Mighty Adelaide Crapsey Ere the horne’d owl hoot Once and twice and thrice there shall Go among the blind brown worms News of thy great burial; When the pomp is passed away, ”Here’s a King,’ the worms shall say.’
Vendor’s Song Adelaide Crapsey My songs to sell, sweet maid! I pray you buy. Here’s one will win a lady’s tears, Here’s one will make her gay, Here’s one will charm your true love true Forever and a day; Good sir, I pray you buy!...
