deComposing
Time for music
a clockwork rocking, as he picked his nose
light liquid words scattered prose
His
all machine, generating
harmonic, synchrous, wave-pulsed heartbeats
Our
pages of drowned cut-ups pasted over serried insects
in the hammering hammering sear of a rhythm
maddeningly stretched out, too far to bear
past points where focus meaning
near, but not a part of being
I
feel the calling
hear.
Then
death of presence beyond sonic
back to the machine
His
human system guiding it
I
am overwhelmed, shadows marching from darkness close around
Us
here, ending.
2nd dComposer's Forum
the #Gallery
Seattle, 1994
deComposing