Posts Tagged ‘marcjohnsonbooks’

Minor thirds bring the head to sway, while a sixth swells the throat. Mere measurements, as the dying guitarist understands. Time is something that he will not know for long, and he relishes in his tones. A pulse driven by low resonance that pushes at the gut every time it’s plucked. And he dances with them. In spite of his willowed legs and arms, he still dances with those dancing notes. The sway of a knobby hip and a knotted shoulder. A dance of a dead thing that hasn’t left its time behind to finally get some rest. Still that dying thing plays. And he smiles.



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