I wonder how all our worlds look from the inside.
“Where do old birds go to die?
Why don’t dead ones fall like stones from the sky?”
I’m quite amazed as I sit by the riverside
Just beyond that mossy gilded gate lying
On a naked shoulder by the water Marching Memory
Before my unfitting seawater eyes, I can’t near describe the image
As reflected rhetorically, in ripples of perfection,
Submerging- they splash all over me!
Made visible I’m broken down to efflorescent light beams
My being shrunk to nothing, effortlessly- consumed
Subsumed by Anokhi spirits I am obligated
to split my mind apart, sense the choices in between
thought and action, acting powers like those still existing behind
that scripted set of scenes.
It’s probably impossible once you’ve been exposed to just let go
And allow the things you now know to return, we must unlearn
And remember ‘dragon lines’ and constellations might be more than
Fitted disorder in the sky or fabricated by the Mind, or as
Dreamt up by Morpheus who was eager for
A trap to capture blissful rapture of the ancient onces.
An artifice- curious to be. Bemused by itself.
And what if all you’ve ever known, you didn’t?
And the whole world that you’ve felt couldn’t be any less unreal.
Cause in this moment now,
I’m quite positive I never had existed.
Your flavors pulsate through every single sound
And silence signifying the circle come back round
In the whispering breeze you send whistling through space
I gracefully come back to you meekly and awake.
And when snow’s upon the road, in tire tracks I see
A grey light issuing forth to burn me with memory
Mesmerized by glowing ice, enchanted I stop and sing
In 64-bit cod I recall a tongue you taught to me.
Burdenbound I am free to contemplate the Great Ones
imagine belief.
In totems conscripted to this tragic fantasy.
I’m thinking of you always for telling me of the invisible
You bore witness to on the precipices of eternity.
Dreaming of distant vistas you told me, its all untrue.
And now I’m simply laughing cause I luv you.
about
very raw and unbalanced (levels are off) recordings from the field and the first iteration of animalaughter (‘16)
conjures sounds of a landscape, riparian in movement from the mystery of a foggy meadow, a woodland as a storm passes through, to the feelings provoked in the perspective from high hills and mountains Animal Laughter