Triadic Memories (M Feldman, 1981)

by Elliot Harmon

After modernism,

after bleary ambitions
of effortless grace

have sufficiently
subsided into dreams
of meager stipends,

after dinner,
a man sits at a piano.
A piano can, in narrative,

signify a private genius
or hidden depth,
associations

which complicate
depiction
of a literal pianist.

The title refers
not strictly to triads,
but to harmonic

resonances
in the piano’s
architecture,

effects that can be nearly
lost on every listener
but the one playing

though the piece’s length
and difficulty
ensure that very few

hear it that way.
I think sometimes,
he told a painter,

that you shut off
your phones
all the time

not because someone
will call but
because no one will.