I used to write poetry, but I got out of that habit around 2009. A year ago, however, I wrote this piece for a small art zine, which was published at a festival where I played. Just recently, the poem surfaced mysteriously out of somewhere, so I decided to put it here on my blog. It’s also one of the few poems I’ve ever written in English.


Body, mind, soul.
Water, earth, air.
Bones, blood, flesh.

Guitar, bass, drums.
303, 808, 909.
Bass, mid, treble.

Beat, melody, harmony.
Word, voice, meaning.
Beginning, middle, end.

Dead, alive, unborn.
Love, hate, indifference.
Light, shadow, darkness.

Width, height, depth.
Yesterday, today, tomorrow.
Far, near, nowhere.

I, you, she.
We, you, them.
Arrive, stay, leave.

Music, poetry, art.
Neither, either, both.
Nothing, something, everything.

Bach, Mozart, Beethoven.
Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed.
Parker, Coltrane, Miles.

One, two, many.
Mother, father, child.
New, old, eternal.

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