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  Jan 2017 Jazz H
Maybe we are in love with emptiness
Which explains why we feel it so deeply
  Sep 2016 Jazz H
Joel M Frye
The power of music
and friendship
heals dead connections;
a well-meaning member
of a jam session
offers me a guitar.
I politely decline,
embarrassed by my disability,
and they shrug.  Your choice.
The familiar curves
beneath my arm
like a woman
from my past,
my amnesiac left hand
reaches for the
muscle memory
of fifty years' practice.
After an agonizing minute,
the G chord miraculously plays,
as I played it at five,
the three big fingers alone
strong enough to hold it.
The switch to C impossible;
so I play a variation.
Doesn't sound bad with the group.
My God, I might play a D7
by the next time it comes around
in the song.
The gang is playing old standards,
Ohio State music;
three chords and a cloud of dust,
which suits my present skill(?) well.
I almost cried when a few tunes later,
we sang A Horse With No Name
to my accompaniment.

Beethoven was deaf, yet heard the Ode To Joy.
Hawking is paralyzed, and travels the universe.
I have three good fingers,
and no good excuses.
Jazz H Jul 2016
I love you still

I love you still.
I know you can see me
I know you acknowledge me
But you sadly don't feel the same way.

I love you still.
You think it's just a crush, but it's more than that.
You are everything I dream of, you are everything I think of.
Every second, minute and hour.
  But hold on...
Now if it comes to you, I'm not even in your thoughts for half a second, and yet I'm still here stuck and lost between all the **** emotions, and you, you are free from all.
But guess ******* what?
I love you still.


— The End —