My neighbor’s son, learning piano
moves his fingers through the passages
a single note at a time, each lasting an equal interval,
each of them loud, distinct,
deliberate as a camel’s walk through sand.
For him now, all is dispassion, a simple putting in place;
and so, giving equal weight to each mark in his folded-back book,
bending his head towards the difficult task,
he is like a soldier or a saint: blank-faced, and given wholly
to an obedience he does not need to understand.
He is even-handed, I think to myself,
and so, just. But in what we think of as music
there is no justice, nor in the evasive beauty of this boy,
glimpsed through his window across the lawn,
nor in what he will become, years from now, whatever he will become.
For now though, it is the same to him:
right note or wrong, he plays only for playing’s sake
through the late afternoon, through stumbling and error,
through children’s songs, Brahms, long-rehearsed, steady progressions,
as he learns the ancient laws—that human action is judgment,
each note struggling with the rest.
That justice lacking passion fails, betrays.
ZYZZYVA EventsJuly 26, 2017
A Celebration of Bay Area Literary Magazines
Location: 6:30 p.m., Mechanics' Institute, Fourth Floor, 57 Post St., San Francisco
Description: A conversation on the mission and vision of three long lived literary journals and the state of the arts in San Francisco, with the editors of ZYZZYVA, Zoetrope, and The Threepenny Review. Moderated by Kevin Smokler. Free for ZYZZYVA, Zoetrope, and Threepenny readers. For more info: http://bit.ly/2rKvCfO
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