Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Experimental - Avant Garde - Unique

Paris, Cimetiere DuPere


Review (thoughts/poem)  for: "Wisteriax at The Nave Gallery" by ARTSomerville
Poetry . . .  darkly expressive - experimental  - "noise patterns" - I like that . . . feelings pour out of the soul of the cello. . .
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The cello cries and talks, muttering to herself . . . 
her woes and ideas come out as poetry 
darkly, humbly, shadowy . . .
wintery . . . the trees are mute and sullen
and an icy coldness tumbles out of the maw of the instrument. . .
groans of burdened earth . . . shrugging and reshaping
new forms into a walking death . . . newly arisen from the
muds that slop around at the base of the trees . . .
screams of depression, sink slowly through
the mire . . . questing new creatures . . .  what am I . . .
where do I belong . . . is this creation? Is it the beginning or the end?

"I am," I scream . . . who ? who are you?
I dream entangled in sound as raw as blood
straight from the heart . . . bursting out as if
escaping from life . . .
is it. . . ?
are you death?


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Thoughts/poem while listening to: "Peeling Paint & Morning Dew" by Dmitry Glushenko

Piano dances and promises a ray of sun . . .
bells, like chimes, quiver with each note,
like wind driven thought as things clash
and play . . . simple things flying in the wind . . .
yet there is quiet between. . .
and a place and time to rest . . .
but joy and sunshine sooth the bones
and the old dancer is quick to rise,
laugh and skip across the meadows
like a child of the doe. . .
like little bodies flying
within the soul of the song
like play - simple play
for the love of play . . .  the pots clash together . . .
and somehow a song arises  . . .
along with a single daisy . . .
dancing

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