Friday, March 16, 2007

Portland Baroque Orchestra

For those of you who read my e-zine CS Review today's posting is a familiar piece. For those of you who have not found time to take a look at a literary and arts monthly zine that showcases some of the best artists in the known world I hope a live horse appears on your car's dashboard during your drive home from work and that it refuses to get into the glove compartment even for two lumps of sugar. That should serve you right! Now that my anger management team has calmed me down after that sudden outburst, here's the plug I want to make:

Emerging twenty years ago as a grass-roots cooperative of musicians, the orchestra has matured as a polished, professional organization with a loyal and committed audience that now numbers some 1000 subscription ticket holders and 1100 single-ticket purchasers. The group offers performances in downtown Portland at the First Baptist Church and at Kaul Auditorium on the Reed College campus. PBO inhabits a modest yet critical niche in the Portland arts community. PBO’s highly specialized orchestral mission complements the Oregon Symphony’s broader purpose. Its narrow focus contrasts well with Friends of Chamber Music and Chamber Music Northwest and its vocal offerings are on a different scale from those of Portland Opera. PBO joins the others to offer the classical music lover a multi-faceted array of options.

The Portland Baroque Orchestra specializes in performing baroque and classical music on original instruments, or replicas, from the time the music was composed. These instruments, and the techniques used to play them, produce an orchestral texture very different from that of their modern counterparts. The improvisation and wit of historically informed performance practices add freshness, clarity, and vitality to the music of Buxtehude, Corelli, Purcell, Scarlatti, Bach, Telemann, Couperin, Vivaldi, Handel, Mozart, Beethoven and many others, linking us directly to a rich and vital past. PBO’s artistic excellence places it squarely within the ranks of the best baroque orchestras in North America and Europe. Many consider music director Monica Huggett to be the premier baroque violinist performing today. A growing list of the world’s best singers, guest conductors, and instrumentalists in the field of baroque performance now consider Portland an important addition to their musical resumes.

I get to hear this heavenly music just about every month. I volunteer as an usher and in return get a free seat. Talk about a deal! Find out more about PBO at:

Now, read some published poems while you dream of heavenly music:

The Trick To Eating Slowly

She likes to put all her knives in a museum.

I like to turn my deckchair to where it's facing the sun.
I prefer wine to beer and wish my first name were
Richard. I've never lived a pious life and hate fish on
Fridays. I do like walking in the fog on the beach and
try to make it a habit to eat slowly. I'm afraid of matches
and allergic to feathers. I want my bar soap labeled in
German and hand towels that glare till my eyes hurt. I
use to be attracted to dubious companions but now my
best friend is my Lazy Boy. Best of all, I'd never even
consider living in the suburbs of a cutlery-making city.

The Formula To Coolsville

It's too early to choose sides yet. So, while you buy time:

-Take the hairpin you found and clean out your ears.

-Line you mantle with these discount monkey skulls.

-Use your one guess to mark that landscape is unlikely German.

-Break every mirror in the long hallway.

-Insist on holding exclusive rights to the island property.

-Always carry something across to wade across.

-Except that the rain in Spain is purely folklore.

-Never share your breakfast with your cat.

-View the dreamscapes from the ground-level only.

-Vote for a forest that only answers to boy names.

-Be suspicious of visitors that resemble themselves.

Come Closer.Listen...

Yes, my wrench was there.

So were the two sacred mounds of prickly pears and a blindfold

the hangman decided not to use. There was a liquor store that had

been robbed and all the pills she could swallow. It was a place where

identity theft began as a beautiful boy with a red rash on its bottom

and ended up as a bowl of chicken soup. And the feeling didn't even

last one song. Neither did bird flu or porcupine quills or urban blight.

No on questioned the curious incident of the dog in the nightmare or

the village that could talk under the sea. And as I found out later, it

was all intended just to kill time until the right radio-jingle came along.

Unfortunately, it never did!

Those poems first appeared online at:
Poetry Copyright 2007 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.

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