Percussion instruments
once said a great teacher,
are the only ones not in contact with the musician before they are sounded.
They take an unusual degree of imagination
to get them going,
to get them vibrating.
I’m surrounded
by wood, skin, and metal,
real world materials
that make otherworldly soundings.
The instruments resonate
only as much as they are asked to,
speaking now soft, soon loud.
Again and again,
over and over,
they ask for repetition–
for a rhythmic return
to a particular point
like an experiment in time,
hitting to discover.
Once vibrating
this wood, metal, and skin
conjure beyond their sounds,
making synesthetic echoes–
a bouncing ball,
a textured cloth,
an open road,
a memory,
rebounding a gift
of tactile sense.
brettworks 