Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.00.1410210248020.5607@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: silence of guqin
Date: Tue, 21 Oct 2014 02:49:56 -0400 (EDT)
silence of guqin the guqin as an ecosystem, biome; each of the seven strings meanders along its own channels, each changes character along its length, from bridge to bridge, above the waters, sky, earth, each has its own silence, i would capture that, meander, with the sounding of a single note, dying-out, lowered or raised, just that, the arch of the string, arcing, a field beneath the strings, above the curvature of the sky, always the entirety under tension, always the entirety in resonance, collectivity, among which the note, singularity, is sounded, dying out, there is no memory, there is no tune that encompasses, no image here, i would assign an image, it disappears, vanishes, i live among wood, wood and weather, the subtle vibrations of the floor, in the midst of the slow steady rain, my arms move from one to the other end, from one to the other, athletic, an encompassing, or compass, designation among the seven, the duplicates, the five, the thirteen, the positions, the sliding among or into the positions, approaching the positions, so much memory, i will do this, will play to the limit on the right, encompassing the right, until sound leaves, broken, tuneless, out of tune, unable to hold forth, the position so clear in the middle, in the midst, where the sky divides into two, the left, musculature, reach of the arm, the right, approaching infinity up to the bridge, as if there were a crossing, the pool or pond, infinite octaves, bent, distorted, leaving the one note behind, open to emptying space, multiple universes, multiverses, each duplicate of each, ranging differently, different qualities and weathers, the weather of the wood, of the silk and metal, the weather of the water, air and earth, the fire of the weather, tending the wood among the elements, the wood breathing in the midst of other lives, the wood expelling, the breath ceasing, i would summon spirits, i would play among them in the hollows, cavity of the guqin, i would circulate among the passages, hide against the corrosion and deceit of the weather, my hands flee from the energy of the extremes, in the middle they find recompense, find redemption, the ordering righting in the midst of unknown climate, the ordering quietly in procession, here in the middle of the night, the strings among themselves sounding within me, or am i wood or weather, or am i element or expulsion, what of the spirit, surely they, among so many others, the room sounding the guqin among, there the ceiling, the wall or a shadow of sound or tone shadow sounding, i am clearing, clearing above the pools, above the sky and earth, cosmos, clearing and my arms, hands, moving, and there among them, and to the left, what clear depths and clarity, and to the right, those infinite intervals decreasing in length and speed, in movement and speech, those intervals increasing in tone and pitch, i can no longer hear them, so much pressure on the strings, the clearing stretches infinitely before me, there are trees and lines of trees, there are people singing, all the animals are there, all the plants as well, soft showers and peaceable kingdoms, and the retreat and expansion of the single note, all of this, this song i am singing, this tone underway, this image almost visible, this tune of goodness and kindness, this ballad of no death, this pillar of the single note, this mountain hut, this wood old beyond belief, i am of the wood, i am singing, this spirit of wood and metal, fire and earth and air, surely they