Practice Is an Art
Originally posted in Goodword Editing.
(Scroll down to find the audio link to hear the poem read by Marcus Goodyear.)
for David Tulley
The pianist plays alone every time
learning not to let the world decide
when he creates and when he rests.
Studios, concert halls, practice rooms
hallowed, not hollow, never empty.
The walls, the chairs, the carpet tremble
with potential decisions. Synthetic
fibers of carpet twist together,
their friendships forming expectant
berber curls, their voices hushed
waiting for the performer’s approach.
