...I look at you all see the love there that’s sleeping...
Three vertical clouds slash across the moon, as though some great thing had tried to claw it from the face of the sky.
Tomorrow, I will be at the Baltimore County Public Library, Pikesville, reading poetry at 1 PM. Join me if you like. You'll know me; I'll be the one without the beret.
Resigned, I listen to Christmas music on the radio, thinking that I'm not sure I can tell the difference between Harry Connick's voice and Harry Belafonte's, simultaneously wondering whether this is the sort of thing I should even waste any brain energy on.
I hear the first seven notes of a Beatles song, played on piano. I know the song, and it makes me smile. George Harrison sings While My Guitar Gently Weeps. It makes me think of Billy Joel's Piano Man, which is remarkable for its opening riff on harmonica.
I'm fairly certain Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man doesn't open with a tambourine, either.
(While My Guitar Gently Weeps; George Harrison)