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1. |
NOCTURNE
11:03
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2. |
what were olive trees
11:56
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the things scattered under the moon
were only silence
or, well, other things also:
the crisp shadows of what were olive trees
that filter away down from the mountain ridge
toward the sea, the white fronts, the little waves,
whose sound you imagine as quieter than it
really is
crashing and actualising the rocks, whose miniature
lagoons find crabs fluttering, the apparatus of
some terribly dramatic nightmare, fluttery,
prehistoric bat then also, fleshy, unfortunate,
and creaking, - remember, they have eyes -
like the configuration of things you know
will happen just a few minutes from now -
TD
wire me up
sit still bristles and burrs
we stood
by the lilies an insect on
my neck
my legs were cold
sticky feet
and salt Grecian
on my hips surge
stir me
a cultivated spin
a lark cried
in the meadow corner pulse between
my toes
FICKLE AND TENDER ARE
THE EDGES , I CLING
TO THEM
Lest the night end
HM
What resilience is such
a hardy tone that one trunk
or branch may question a
true-meant advice parcel?
I think probably the negligent and
the orgiastic should have a
bath sometimes, in other words.
HN
It was syndicate ————
live ——————
blue ———
Pushing around around the stars
slipping on butter con-
-vulsing whispering shh. shh.
SHHH hunt me
They said hunt me
I swim in oceans in salt
lakes in rivers I beat
currents I live in moments
I let my body become
it. ———————————
yes more
more more——
more more ————
— i can hold ———— it
MZ
MOONFLOWER
THERES THIS MOONFLOWER LIKE
NOCTURNE’S CROCUS RESIDING IN
AN EBONY LIP OR
ALL THESE TAUGHT STRINGS I
AM SPILLT I
AM FULL OF IT I
CAN’T LILT HERE
IN FULL SIGHT OF AN
ARMY OF DUST BUNNY HONIES
I’M ROPE-A-DOPE
I CAN COPE
TAKE FLIGHT AND
FIND A NEW DOGGERLAND
OR
I CAN CHANGE
CROAK
AND FEEL
GOLFO
LM
MILKSHAKE
PUSHING UP AGAINST PORES
THE MELODY EXCRETES ITSELF
IN QUAVERS AND QUAKES
DROWING IN LOST SCALES OF
BLUES, TERRA-COTTA OR
MIS-TAKES
MILKSHAKES
DISTASTE
STOP CHEWING AND SPIT IT
OUT IN POPCORN
BALLS
OF FOR
HER SAKE
HIS SAKE
THEIR SAKE
MILKSHAKE
LM
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
THIS DAWN IS OPENING AND I’M STILL HERE
DUST SHEETS EXHALE IN THE MORNING
THE OLD OAK CHEST WITH ITS BURNISHED DRAWERS
AND A PIANO FORTE GONE SOUR
HOUR, HOUR,
OUR TIME IS UP
VLA
Hieroglyphic curtains uncovering a chaosmos
Diagonally face the punch & judy abyss
Neighboured by a field calling a boy calling,
‘wolf!’
And a human pouring water on a decision
to push a blue or red button
Bled to liquid enthused architecture amiss
* proturbingly found enthralling, “unself!”
Viola & cello centred by a Nord Piano
Pianist sprouting sunflowers
Outing won powers diagonalling
graphs of light;
an eatery, a field:
wielding a beatery next to
the next.
MJS
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3. |
rush to the plinth
11:42
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rush to the plinth
and dwell amongst
blue triangles ,
strangers outside
pulling at their
skirts and the the sweltering
quiet of lines come
to meet you,
gather keys and
plant them in every snag at your
lock ankles.
If you look
do not struggle , long enough
tousle them at that
form, shape
play and meet the
other side it twists and
escapes
pity the bottom of
these doors, always
swinging
catching draughts,
dropping hinges.
HM
in July.
St Denis burned 2 months ago? The light
from her tower [could not be seen
on the moon, but] she felt it.
Funny that only one person found the
diamond.
My tectonic plate shifted that evening
because
I wanted it to.
Downstairs they only heard sentences
that didn’t end.
only.
The stairs become richer and more
flat. Housed by soil 89 years later
or eroded and worn, stuck in a
cupboard
torn
taken
plastic
rotting
so. possessive. so selective.
only mud, no sweet grass. But that was how
it happened.
MSM
In obscure halls and corridors
some lost crumble, some lost island outpost —
I move, and within the air and the wood,
there is a sinuous expansion, a completion of
the trembling space among the sections of my body.
A shallow light is erected along the angles of the
wall; I have caught a window.
Outside there is nothing, I promise, except the
landscape, and the million-division tumult of the rain, vague
I do not find it ominous, but nonetheless it
is unbearable; it sees in itself the violent
extension of everything - the moon under which
everybody on earth, in all their positions, find
themselves - everything outside where I am, the
blueprint of every movement ever made, there is the
tree, swaying. - never mind, it doesn’t suit me,
I shouldn’t think too much, well, about these
things, it makes me so ill.
TD
AND the sun collapsed
melted into puddle
SWAM
into nothingness
————————
————————
————————
————————
————————
————————
plonk
T H U N D E R
MZ
THE GULL +
In the crease of
I
‘tween the sea and
the
sky
swam
a with
Gull a
Pearl
though it wished
it could
fly
LM
JAUNDICE,
CORNICE.
SINEWED CHANDELIERS, BLOATED RATS
AND THE RIND OF A LEMON GONE BLUE
FESTER
MOLESTER
THAT THE BEST YER
COULD DO?
WHAT’S HERE, NOW
WE’RE ALL GONE?
UNDER YOUR SKIN || ANTONYM
FUCK YOU, FOR ALL THE SHIT YOU PULLED
WE’LL HAUNT IT, BREAK YOU.
WE’LL SET OFF PSYCHEDELIC SMOKE BOMBS
AND BLEED SYRUP FROM THE FIRE.
LYRE, LIRE.
LIVE WIRE
DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE A CRIER
YOU?
I WILL NOT STOP UNTIL YOU GO MAD.
VLA
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4. |
teeth abduction
19:19
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HEBANA MEBANA
MZ
when I speak in Lyrical toung
I spin storys not yet begun
some are new or is it old
try do what you’ve been
told, ————————
screech and scratch, like
a cottage roofed by thatch.
————————————
————————————
————
an itch that spreads like
butter on my leg n
moving north to my
Dench teeth abduction by
——— the un cooth
OP
under the ocean things can shudder sometimes,
and crack, did you know?
Trust me, I do, and be sent apart, and
shatter, and split, even though they are
iridescent, and smooth and nimble
there are, also, I think, waterfalls under the
ocean;
a grain of sand, having many surfaces, reflects
light both this way and that, and this! and that!
way too!
and has meanwhile the vanishing point of
impossible masses in its ridiculous hidden
centre, or, maybe, I imagine, maybe
it doesn’t.
If the cuttlefish, the sea slug and the barely existent plankton, all of whom have tea and
biscuits at four and then kill each other - if they
don’t care, then, I don’t imagine you should either.
TD
salute the gate as the sky
clears your brow
Does that w?isp of
a cloud tell you —
————— to
drag your feet?
tickled by the storm and the way
flies tread on pages
so careful
itching to point out
the flaws and how
best to wipe up
the spilt and the stains
———————————
rumbling strain secretes a honey
that anoints trembling palms
\ all to endure the
finer threads, the
bringers of long days
and fuller evenings
calculate the trickles and it will
give you the form.
HM
Drowned and dangled in ash, white
a stone.
Dressed ready to pour the inches around
the shoulders globed and ankles
pricking eyes dry from so much
liquid.
Run out of soap.
Cleaning the branches. Snow for
Sheep to tread lightly on
and cheese for rich men to
gauge on in marble kitchens
with digital flames warming
the glass and their bones.
My thoughts in your minds.
MSM
SUGAR BUGGER
HE CAME HE SORE A CONKER
NOT SOME PONCE, NO PLONKER
JUST A PLAN OF MAN SPLAYED
PUT PAID TO MY RUBBER MISCHIEF
THE MUSIC DOESN’T ALWAYS HAVE
TO MEAN THERE’S PORTENT IN
PLANT POTS AND HEAVY TOPS —
SO STOP AND HAVE A WEE PIDDLY
STROP
COP A FEEL OF SOMETHING BLUE
AN’ AIRY FROM ME THE
SUGAR BUGGER ( BUT LET
ME TELL YA KIDDA, IT’LL NOT
BE TIDY).
LM
—————————
stones in a stream
ripples kaleidoscopic
time, identity is the breath
that breaks
a cascade collapses
evening. The discontented moon
strangles the wind,
a scarf that billows
refracted echoes, she is jealous
of your name, the shape
of your lips birthing
your hello. She talks and takes —
the furnishing is gone, the lampposts missing
their light, the shape
of your face
in the mirror. Tonight she wears
your dreaming
ME
The little girl
on the plane /
who turned off
her dolls head around /
to look at me
/
J D SALINGER
DG
GANGRENE, ICE CREAM
CHLOROPHORM DAWN.
NO? YOU CRY? NARR,
HERE, FUCKING GO.
CREEPING, CREEPING ROUND THE CLOISTERS OF YOUR MIND.
YOU’LL FIND ME
DANCING ON YOUR CORTEX, STAMPING ON MY VORTEX.
CAN YOU HEAR ME LAUGHING?
HAR
FUCKIN
HAR, ——————
I’LL DISMEMBER YOUR SANITY AND KEEP IT IN JAR
DAR
LING YOU DESERVE THIS
AND I DESERVE SOME FUN
TURN YOUR THOUGHTS TO A FAIRGROUND AND NOT STOP UNTIL I’M DONE
SPINNING GRINNING, TOO MUCH OR NOT ENOUGH?
I’LL KEEP USING YOUR TOKENS TILL YOU VOMIT
SMASHING, GROMIT.
YOU’RE PLASTICINE. —————
I’LL INFECT YOUR DREAMS
VLA
Door Open
Flesh Crawling
Your Hand
My Knife
Curtain Closing
Shadows Calling
GLASS BREAKING
Iced Spine
Coming Closer
You Smile
I … Die
BC
A feeling of nostalgia,
A man who has nothing left,
tip toeing down the marble steps,
His sins lay clearly on his
mind.
a thunder and screech as
the devil taps ones shoulder,
and so this his guardian
angel weeps forever - more,
what a chaotic mess
yet light pours into his
eyes,
and is forgiven for his
ways.
As he takes his last breath.
JS
MARTIAN MAN WONDERS
WHY HE IS HERE,
IS IT FEAR THAT STOPS
HIM HAVING THAT BEER?
WHY IS HE HERE?
SILLY MARTIAN MAN!
HAVE NO FEAR!
I ONLY POISONED
THAT BEER!
BC
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Late Works London, UK
indeterminate intermedia improvisation
permutable collective of artists, musicians, writers, film-
makers, designers and dancers who perform at the nomadic series of live events of the same name & monthly radio show on Resonance Extra.
lateworks.co.uk
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