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The Myth of Music.


for my father

If music can be passed on

like brown eyes Brown Eyes (브라운 아이즈) was a Korean musical duo, specializing in ballads. Although both members have powerful voices, they were initially disregarded because of their physical looks.  or a strong

left hook, this melody

is my inheritance, lineage traced

through a title track,

displayed on an album cover

that you pin to the wall

as art, oral history taught

on a record player, the lessons

sealed into the grooves like fact.

This is the only myth I know.

I sit on the hardwood hardwood: see wood.
hardwood

Timber obtained from broad-leaved, flower-bearing trees. Hardwood trees are deciduous trees, except in the warmest regions.
 

floors of a damp November,

my brother dealing cards

from an incomplete deck,

and I don't realize that this

moment is the definition

of family, collective memory

cut in rough-textured tones,

the voice of a horn so familiar

I don't know Don't know (DK, DKed)

"Don't know the trade." A Street expression used whenever one party lacks knowledge of a trade or receives conflicting instructions from the other party.
 I'm listening,

don't know I'm singing,

a child's improvisation improvisation

Creation of music in real time. Improvisation usually involves some preparation beforehand, particularly when there is more than one performer. Despite the central place of notated music in the Western tradition, improvisation has often played a role, from the
 

of Giant Steps or Impressions:

songs without lyrics

can still be sung.

In six months, when my mother

is 2,000 miles away, deciding

if she wants to come home,

I will have forgotten

this moment, the security

of her footsteps, the warmth

of a radiator radiator, device used to heat an area surrounding it or to cool a fluid circulating within it. The familiar radiators of steam and hot water heating systems in buildings are misnamed, as they operate principally by convection, in which heat is transferred by air  on my back, and you

present in the sound of typing

your own accompaniment,

multiphonics disguised as chords

in a distant room, speakers set

on high to fill the whole house

with your spirit, your call

as a declaration of love.

But the music will remain.

The timeless notes of jazz

too personal to play out loud,

stay locked in the rhythm

of my childhood, memories fading

like the words of a lullaby,

come to life in a saxophone's blow.

They lie when they say

music is universal - this is my song,

the notes like fingerprints Impressions or reproductions of the distinctive pattern of lines and grooves on the skin of human fingertips.

Fingerprints are reproduced by pressing a person's fingertips into ink and then onto a piece of paper.
 

as delicate as breath.

I will not share this air

with anyone

but you.

Rachel M. Harper lives in Providence, Rhode Island

“Providence” redirects here. For other uses, see Providence (disambiguation).
Providence is the capital and the most populous city of the U.S.
.
COPYRIGHT 1999 African American Review
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 1999, Gale Group. All rights reserved. Gale Group is a Thomson Corporation Company.

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Article Details
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Author:Harper, Rachel M.
Publication:African American Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Sep 22, 1999
Words:282
Previous Article:Bass.(Poem)
Next Article:Return to Temptation.(Poem)
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