Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Music in the Present Tense

Music in the Present Tense

©May 9th, 2014

By Vijaya Sundaram

 

The insistent beep of a device somewhere

The punctuations of birdsong

The clack-clack of high heels tripping down the hallways

The voices raised in ritual greeting

The hum of a computer awakening

The whir of an unidentifiable machine

The question from a student

Poking a head in at my door:

Is Poetry Club cancelled for today?

And my strangled “Yes,”

Accompanying a nod,

The high hum of electricity

The shimmer-buzz of fluorescent tubes,

The shuffle of janitorial feet

Jingling keys and all,

The clicking of my fingers on these keys

And the tap-tap of my restless ankle-boots –

 

All these lead me to this question:

And for what purpose

Is all this work, this tension?

Where’s the music?

 

The piano at the far end stands

Silent, withdrawn, reserved.

The guitar teeters madly

On the counter where a student

(Or perhaps I) put it,

The hanging-plants overhead grow silently,

Breathing in my carbon-breath,

While I drink in their lovely

Oxygen-rich green exhalation,

So symbiotically symbolic!

The rhythm of inhale-exhale

The music of plant and mammal

In a room full of made things,

The give-and-take of the natural

And unnatural, mediated by

Human intention and action.

 

I listen intently, and think:

And what’s the purpose?

And, Where’s the music?

I wonder again.

 

And the music blossoms,

Rose-like and silken

Spiky and molten

Opaquely clear

Before my eyes, my ears,

My breath, my skin.

Right here, amidst all these

Things, these thieves of Time and attention,

These sheaves of paper

And cluster of pens.

Amidst all these four-legged

Quietly triumphant things

On which we sit, and at which

We labor mightily.

 

But I don’t hear it. I wonder:

Where’s the music? Shall I play some?

And then, I find it, right here, see?

Tight, at my feet, hands, skin, ears.

 

Still, I’ll play the guitar,

I think, and stop

This, this thing I’m doing.

And I do.

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Test

Test

(A Glimpse From My Classroom Window

While Students Take a State Math Exam)

©May 9th, 2014

By Vijaya Sundaram

 Trees, a brick wall

Fighting a grey sky.

Glass windows reflect

And reflect back

Human and non-human images,

Fleeting and busy, still and silent,

Over-layered, screen upon screen

While cars flow by,

An easy stream, swift and sure,

On a road where sound

May or may not exist.

Not in my quiet classroom, anyway –

 

Here, where heads are bent

Over official papers

Lives the Mind,

Where only the rustle of papers,

And the scratch of pencils,

And the shuffle of abstracted

Student feet reveal a Supreme Force –

Thought, turned into abstract

Abstruse, enigmatic

Symbol, a language not

Everyone masters, but which

Life and Matter know.

 

Cellular and atomic

Is their knowledge.

And the Laws were

Already written, before

My students and I

Before everyone,

And everything,

Everywhere, everywhen,

Ever were.

 

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