Whimper (for prepared piano)

David, no, please.

the end draws near
and with everything to show
and so little left
you still smile and ask me to dance
whether or not the wind whips
whether or not the rain falls.

the last hexagram was cast
and then turned
into movement, or sound.

this idea that the sun will shine again
just because it has always done so.

tonight when I close my eyes
the universe will, once more play
that old chestnut:
dark silence of a New York apartment
with distant traffic sounds

and rather than
the gentle arc of silent sheep

I'll imagine
the sound of John weeping
until oblivion, at last,
brings me that cup of tea.


(for Merce Cunningham and John Cage)