Memories a Maya Dorn Gig (Dec 16, 1995).

Just got home from an evening of acoustic music provided by local musician Maya Dorn. Fortunately, Tom at the Acoustic Coffeehouse servers a great Oasis Oatmeal Stout so the muse has suddenly visited. As with everything in these pages, this is only an initial attempt. Changes are always possible later:


Found at the local coffeehouse...

Blonde mountain beauty struck by secondhand stage lights,
chiseled jaw contrasting the blushed cheek bones and casual silken locks,
a twist of the head suddenly red, then green, then red again.
Ethereal lines driven through Oasis haze and furniture clatter.
Haunting. Penetrating.

Some inhuman virus halting the dream. The unconscious, melodic link. "The Show."

Mountain cold penetrating, chilling, like the lyrics only moments ago.
The evening's dynamics compacted into the revelry of the triumphant departure,
upended gentle music transformed into awkward fumbling.
From the honorable to the ashamed in one closing of a door.

The illusion of confidence isn't within but out there.
Its only on loan from others...
...but Springsteen, with a single note, can return what paranoia had just stolen.

The thoughts of what might have been trying to intrude, but vanquished at the grumble of a starter.
Soon ideals of meditation induced-bliss challenged,
the here-and-now of pushing through curves trumping vague philosophical maybes.
Buddha is my co-pilot.

At home, the 'net gently weeps.


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Alan Fleming alanf@dorje.com