"It is a rare few who have managed to build upon—rather than merely mimic—the short piano pieces of Keith Jarrett. In that group belongs Tom Splitt, with his at once restless and restful improvisations." - Neil Tesser, Chicago Reader/USA Today

Lyrics / Poetry

The Forest

I sit on an earthen embankment deep in the forest
Surrounded by patches of wild grass rooted in sandy soil
Scurrying red ants and turning-yellow plants
Small chunks of brown desiccated wood and rotting branches
Acorns, pine cones and blankets of decaying needles

Waves of tears and sadness come and go
Then melt into the earth
I sit with my brother and sister trees
And the curious, accepting doe only yards away
Part of this forest
Part of this still, quiet, timeless life
Under my Bodhi tree
No mind, no doing
Present, peaceful, observant, aware

At one with the tiny flying midges sparkling in the sun
The fearless feeding sparrows coming closer and closer
The yellow butterfly feeding on the last of the wild aster
Loving this precious, precious earth