Ribbed, solitary leaf, cradled in frozen canvas, stray comma to the rivered language of glacial moon, that is where I find her, my love, spreading pure as the music of first snow. Advertisements
It took place in an amnesiac haze and fury, numberless nights of lightningspeak and opiate rabble, rocketfuel and anti-freeze, bright slashing ribbons of noise amounting to worry stones indenting the infantpink tender of palms, forecasting God as a vaudeville dunce … Continue reading
Song, caught in her hair, something about torn feathers, running, blue to form.
It is how the mouth plays chords the lips keep time to– Kiss, erring to seize.
Scars worn out to fade, old records played in small hours– Dreams chased by morning.
This way to music, map of birds inking a squall– tenors of deluge. (Artwork by Chua ek Kay)
Spiders to Mozart, what luminous webs and notes we weave, snot-strands from God’s blown brass, tapestries of the eternal boombox, breakbeats to spacefolk to bebop within a deep forest kind of blue, the music, recorded or un, plays on and … Continue reading
To listen with eyes, in a forest of deep blue– Music spiring dreams. (Image by Christian Marclay)
It is the filigreed static, and effluvient roar of the water nymphs choral concert, which numinously orders the light and stones to conspire, and function as delegates of symmetry.
Literary trailer for the re-release of Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale. This is the first of three trailers, the other two being for Raking the Dust and Nocturne Variations, with videos and music created by Anthony Distefano. Watch here.
