Bach Invention by Jane Tyson Clement (1917-2000) If I could live as finished as this phrase, no note too strong; each cadence purposed, clear, the logic of the changing harmony building and breaking to a major chord strangely at home within a minor web of music; if I could define my end, from the beginning measures trace my course, I might be old and prudent, shown by laws how to devise a pattern for my days and still be free, unhampered, yet refined. He sat before the keys a

THE INNER BEAN COUNTER I have a ringing in my ears. It’s not a pitch, or static white noise, it’s just there. I can push aside the distracting thoughts of the day—the strange memories of things I've done or, the things I have left undone, but after that clutter is gone, it's still just there humming away. It’s kind of like when you try to make a recording at home and you realize the room is way too noisy. You turn off the low rumble from the AC, unplug the refrigerator's humm