“Tempo and Tone”

By Simon Borokov

Graphic by Catarina Koehler

Have you ever tried to write along with the tempo of music?

I find that it’s awfully hard

I wrote to you previously, that letter that

I can only hope reached you, in this

fashion. Not a song, not an album, but a randomly shuffled selection of my

own playlist, so please understand if the

writing previously fluctuated and danced

like a joyful, tailless cat.

Maybe I am not fit for poetry.

And-chant, does it mean there is

magic involved?

Neat little flips of a tall, black hat?

Swarms of white rabbits flooding the stage and

devouring the audience?

Hard to believe when by my eyes pass

automated blabbers by twisted imitators of humanity,

when words lose meaning by epidemic,

to which the only cure is

social distancing and an unwavering skepticism.

But there do come moments to me in unexpected pockets of space and time,

by which I learn that faith in magic exists always: one need only the palate for its attention.

In packed T’s and double U-turns, and Mumblings against alarm clocks,

in Free bagels from corporation-minded chains of coffee-houses,

in sharing benches with strangers in silence,

in getting soaked,

in writing imaginary letters to real people,

in surviving orphanhood of any one thought,

in keeping my own library,

in writing my own music to go along with my own words,

the process of which is violent and idiotic and lacks any theory behind its success to me:

outbursts of fingers on black and white keys

savoring the taste of each note,

directionless appetite for savory sound.

All a sculpt for the image of my tone.

Authors Note:

It is not common for me to be able to express myself in a satisfactory way, most of the time I am frozen up inside my own head and the product that comes out of my mouth is an aimless jumble. ‘Tempo and Tone’ is a hopeful approach towards finding a voice that carries with it a resemblance of the communicative powers of music.