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no bail out akin to start
no holds barred
ofter the fixer
a smooth esthetic from the get-go
every beat on the beatup
fred brushin the strings / palette painted
like painting yes they are painting
beyond trinkle tinkle
beyond mere trinket & artifice
suffice it to say THIS is ART
tuning up/down boing-a-boingin
see the sounds emerge & merge
contradict & concisely consciously depict
act (en) counter / attack
fred tingly raspy like dynamo in a sci-fi flick
reactor exploding
no needing to see or even anticipate one another
no formulaic formulas
creating immediate solvable theories
that need not be solved immediately
defined as un-definable
turbine(d) — cycling attentiveness
it's the chains broke free
& put thru the sifter
think incredible not incredulous thoughts
meta-bonding / bounding bound by & bowed by...
hot for an underlying melody @ times
a second there & gone to lilting
this craving
my gruff pushy boyish naïve sensitive self
me most sensitive soul — ted coughs right in my ear
a mini tsunami ensues
fierce wind & storm out on the street tonite
in here too
donors aplenty though donors be rare
there are salient & savory promptitudes & angles
with platitudes never part of the issue
large men & their umbrellas being breathed away
take my hand — i call to her as the storm blows us
down the street but she is too busy shouting @ me over
some silly domestic dispute
fred's bare feet hit the pedals
his toes curl up — something electric there
the storm inside is also strong
& rips thru us just as the one out there
does
if you'll only hold on to me for a bit instead of your anger
i think to myself keeping a safe distance at her request
leave your anger across the street i have
for now @ least
leave the cycles @ home
they play laments
spacious liturgical almost — distended church bell
difficult sonorities — a whole new view
knocking on the doors of...
fred says have to tune to that one now just so we can see where it's going
not that we care — that'a another one down —
evan says: & 5 more to go
well we have to end by 11 — evan says pointing to the ceiling
we've got 3 minutes left
let's see what we can play in 3 minutes
it's the ballad isn't it — fred says
i thought we played the ballad already — evan says —
we only know one — it's gonna be a pretty ballad fred chimes in
& more ongaku & eumahk begin
& my body has gone somewhere else just then ... AMEN.
germination
& the upper side
@ first dis en chant meant
chant as to sing
a slinking about core all sizes amonkerip(plin')
from solidities to amorphous blues line
fragmented & re-defined
low action plays diminished pianissimo
a rhythmic dynamic
reinventing the shuffle
as before gesturing hitched again
only the glisserials different & filtering
re-read demon/ends & kindly killers
a-boilin'
the progno an almost perplexed hesitation
& tremulous though not fearful
more thoughtful rapture
pluck upward the upright
& i'm waiting for explosions
sensation inseparability ratification
re-boost (sometimes we listen too well)
age(nts) of hearing / responding
jelly-hellos descreet indiscretions
hey where's the whachamasyndromes?
what keen pinch work almost snazzadrople slapstring
upended granules / shepherding
& retinue of unwinds & playoffs
& again monkering toward the finish line
the evidence of histories combined
a second arrival
what others view at breakneck speed across the small expanse
i'm so weary of my language this reworded miscellany
as the trio re-invents their lives on this day of the birth of 2 masters
i will take me down some
carry this weight to the river
turn on the gyrorator underscore reality bites
& try to be less conniptious
but first i must listen to the sound of the music
(the music in the words)
& bring that sound closer to my heartbeat.
whirly-giggy as the colors dance
up/down & sideways
the wooden sentinel a goddess if
ever there was one — goddess of soundsation
immediate concoction
without conniption
a congenial doorway into passageway
a collid-e-scopic not(a)tion of swirliferous
a stopping into the go
yet continuance of structure
structure(d)less abiding &
there there's cause & be/cause
it's all so full of
bright & massive
light & heavy
the world's in here
for now all's copasetic
i pause to partake deeper
in deeper still.
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.