Compressed
by
Heather Aimee O’Neill
No, read the sign. Inside, applause like a symphonic song infused with grief, the never-finished arrangement steadily growing, its own cohesive whole. Celebrate the pleasures of movement, textures, <p class="indent200">climaxes,</p> <p class="indent150">passages</p> <p class="indent50">howling within the dissonances.</p> The loneliness of love rises in the farewell, meandering lines separate, strangers circling one another, pried apart under a microscope. And in doing so, a new harmony. <em>The above poem is an erasure from the following source text: “<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/28/arts/music/schoenbergs-version-of-mahlers-song-of-the-earth.html?ref=arts" target="_blank">Mahler’s ‘Earth</a>,’ Compressed </em><em>By Schoenberg” by Corinna Da Fonesca Wollheim, The New York Times, MUSIC, October 26, </em><em>2012.</em> <table> <tbody> <tr> <td valign="top"><img class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-6754" src="http://southernpacificreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/HeatherONeill_Pic1.jpg" alt="HeatherONeill_Pic1" width="300" height="200" /></td> <td>Heather Aimee O’Neill teaches creative writing at CUNY Hunter College and is the Assistant Director of the Sackett Street Writers’ Workshop. Her most recent collection of poetry, <em>Obliterations</em>, is co-authored with Jessica Piazza and forthcoming by Red Hen Press. A recent Lambda Literary Poetry Fellow, her poetry chapbook, Memory Future, won the University of Southern California's Gold Line Press Award, chosen by judge Carol Muske-Dukes. She is a freelance writer for publications such as <em>Time Out New York</em>, <em>Parents Magazine</em> and <em>Salon.com</em>. She lives in Brooklyn, NY.</td> </tr> </tbody> </table>
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