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

 

deconstruction cowbell blues

 

deconstruction cowbell blues