1. |
The Radiant Mirror
07:59
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2. |
Avant S(W)OP
05:17
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3. |
A Swinging Door
13:50
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4. |
Pocket Knife Raga
07:35
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5. |
Evening Star Kreuzspiel
03:03
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6. |
Brite Winter Blues
06:41
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7. |
March First Raga
04:55
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8. |
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9. |
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Dark on dark forms in the doll bed really or just before dawn sickness, the dog by the tub a collie that vanished lights in the sky figure moving slowly gloved shadow in the dollhouse definitely before dawn my dog is aging her joints are off her dark eyes in white face she shakes my brother pissing in the cat box, Jenna falling into the cat box, my folks saw a flying saucer on the corner of 25th and Cleveland Avenue in Canton but then they forgot about it I’ve seen things in the woods, my ex-husband called out to a man standing there behind my parents’ house in the woods and sometimes boom a deer runs into the side of my parents’ house the man stood still said nothing I see all the old houses in my dreams what flickers up there in the high leaves knowing human always whisper all the buildings in my dreams places unknown and satia and the yellow house caverns of misunderstanding like that huge elementary school looked like a prison what secrets in those ancient toilets and dreams of the future Saddam Hussein on my roof after I’d put him in my trapper keeper and then six months later and I got fired in another dream at a salad bar dead birds in my waking live on its back the pigeon dove its is the worst strange thing David Blaine is strange my drummer petting the drum in his mouth my shaman companion running the contact mic into a black rubber wail as he gnaws surprised at the drum he’s pulled off his set connecting metal melts all over his paws all the strange sounds I’ve seen I’m seeing it now the work of the river beasts melting the keys and changes the painting my father had made from blood dried it was black it was “cognitive dissonance” I have seen shadows standing swooping at the foot of the bed I really have I really have in the 112th street apartment in 2001, just after the dreams of the chemical warfare and one night laying in bed on ecstasy, I saw the flower shape from my Kathleen’s light on the ceiling billow out and come back and billow out again and it really happened if we are willing and one morning with Clarence in the smoke and sun and Debussy I saw the way in.
[Excerpt from a poem written in 2008, published in a limited edition Howland/Matzorkis/Tracy book 2010]
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10. |
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Tom Orange Cleveland, Ohio
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The Cycle
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The Organ That Breathes
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