by David Stone
It’s not world peace
not even the end of hunger
It isn’t fairness, respect
or inspiration
A search for words
futile as perfect love,
a tune heard early
then lost among songs
It isn’t even brotherhood
Tuning fork you are
the search for perfect pitch
harmonies lifting
within a symphony
more dense than Turangalîla
In the careful curve of time
something wants to bend
just so, to curl
around the note
and lift the endless music
slightly
Recommended: Time Passes
Susan Rosenthal, a Sacrificial Lamb?*
The woman Albany condemned, the room she failed to read and the friends who survived by leaving her behind.
After Susan Rosenthal was fired, David Kraut would talk about almost anything except Susan. This was unusual because David could discuss a subject long after everyone else had exhausted both the subject and the available oxygen. When her name entered the conversation, however, he became careful. At first I mistook that restraint for discretion; later, I began to recognize guilt.
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