Poem by Doniell Cushman
He's tired at his piano lesson
His throat is sore C chords in inversions, up and down He asks if the second chords are in F or G Runs his hands through his Thick chestnut hair Plays with an oversized hoodie on Chords up and down Root position Then parallel thirds in octaves "Oh yeah," he says "I remember this one." Oh, okay. He takes correction well. This? Yes. Season's changing in the piano studio before chromatic scales C-B-B flat, try that again Adding in left hand separately Yawns © Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review. All rights reserved by Doniell Cushman.
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AuthorDoniell Cushman, B.A. cum laude Archives
June 2022
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