Goodreads
del.icio.us
a slow drift
a certain whiteness in the space
a certain pure streaming
capturepulting loopool fixed eyes
unspoilt texts
knowing sawing sorting thru lesions
legends allegiance to legion of everyness
barrrrr AH cuuuuuda's kudos strip the AIR
of nonessentials lead off conundrums & all/theres
belying here where a camera can only capture
the stillness of the movement of the moment
antennae e'er alert to the oncome of onslaught
where it pours the fixed eyes staying ever fixed as even
the heads themselves begin to roll.
RED ALERT RED ALERT —the engines arrive
the plinging piping barreling & barpoling
have set the house afire
& now regroup themselves adrift mid-stream
unda-loopool dark that is—the whiteness of their
eyes.
Immediate train caught thought fully full—here there is no buried treasure—no ruinous voice—no mere reading of the score but as naked as the lunch I digested so long ago—devoured—piloted by the dead where the living cover us in stone, worn parch, shoe lace & loafing en fran chise ment. These can tell us what they'd thinking without hoarse or placid word-for-wording. Common knowledge prevails—saxophone su(b)mmit to ringspring or grins' aspirin' unjacketing. Soft climb & back to step-by-reeding step & such delivered. & then again a navigated solo occurrence.
Here's an interaction before even the release occurs & the as thus stated & released. How instinct takes over. How listening begins even before the notes are played. Before the very sounds appear. One hears the other before the other's spoke. These duly respectful, maturely offered off'rings breathing circles 'round their selves.
And such unique breaths, indeed.
sonically—the floor begins to tremble
& break into a sweat
as i do
there's no reason for reason or reasoning
duplication of feelings & ideas
green lights sur face(e) ing like ragged surface of
well-worn floor
trembling— is this more like tremble than rumble?
trembling yes—precisely what my sweaty neck
perceives the floor to be doing when i am
why o wasted guillotine of shock
better to roll the head away
than have it play the roll of seductive corporeal culprit.
get past what
it is you are
facing.
personal note:
to be too low in the mix
is not like below the level of
hearing.
to fidget with the wires in
the fish bowl
can cause a burning
sensation
if submerged in
water—
rumor has it
that rumors abound
everywhere
take tonite for instance
i heard that there may be a revolution
even a bit of rain
let's wait & see where the blade will fall
if the clouds open
& who if anyone gets off(ed).
Steven Dalachinsky was born in Brooklyn, New York sometime after the last Big War and before lots of useless little wars...he has been writing poetry since before then and has always...he is basically self-taught...his great loves and influences are the Beats, Blake, Kafka, Camus, Harpo, surreal and abstract painting and music......especially jazz and so-called "Avante Guarde" or "FREE" jazz. Two key elements in his poetry are spontaneity and the idea of transformation rather than description with a preference toward non-linear, non-narrative thought. He resides in Manhattan where he has lived for the past 30 years.