Sunday, October 31, 2004

Lovely Child

my tongUe speaks
to aNy ear;
Days go by,
growing moRe
unsEasonable;
theSe days that remain -
it doeSn't
mattEr how many.
Day turns to night;
I bake Bread for you,
mY lovely
chiLd.
hOw did you gain
the silVer which
enslavEs you?

from Rumi 10-24-03

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

James Tenney's Forms I-IV

Reading the liner notes of the Hat Art recording of James Tenney's Forms leads one to expect some kind of dry, conceptual exercise. Each has a simple structure made by slowly adding and subtracting tones from a sound mass produced by sixteen players who play single pitches at indeterminate but regular times. The pitches are derived from the harmonic series, and this becomes apparent at the end of the second piece, which becomes a dominant 7th chord, then the 7th goes away, leaving a major chord, etc.

But the effect of this is anything but dry. The busy sections seem to buzz and hum with life, and when the music becomes low and soft, it feels like an underground river with occasional sparkles of light in the darkness.

It has been a long time since I have heard a piece of new music this original and beautiful. The music seems to hold within it the whole world of phenomena and feeling. In its inexorable, non-dramatic way, it is very moving.

The four pieces are interleaved with four other works, one each by Varese, Cage, Wolpe, and Feldman. Tenney has dedicated one of the Forms to each of these composers. If Tenney feels indebted to these composers, he has paid his debt most generously.

Saturday, October 23, 2004

Joseph Cornell

The obJects that he used -
marbles and wOoden perches,
even a Stray cockatoo -
found thEir way into
cabinets of sParseness;
many of tHem unoccupied.


Joseph Cornell.

The exhibition Consisted
of bOx constructions,
also CamelopaRdalis...
He iNcorporated constellations,
figurEs of Auriga,
coLumns, seashells -
the compLex nature of existence.


Joseph Cornell.

12/02

Aria

How Dismal!
All of my fleas
bite Me bloody!
DooM's apprentice
opeNs his
massive mAw,
drooling wiTh pleasure!
Oh, my paIns
and sOrrows!
None worse
than black despaiR!
In my distrEss
I calleD, "Willie, Willie!"
and whEn they
carried hiM hither,
the dolPhins leapt high,
yeT soon fell back again.
All while the brIght moon
shOne, sizzling
its inarticulate soNg!
How Dismal!
they tickle mE
and I'm All itchy!
and wiTh all of this singing
I'm out of breatH...
12-02

Trigger-man

As I slurp my soup, Hamlet admits
that he tAlked to the assasin
before he talked to Me;
then I hear the belLs begin to ring,
as they have tollEd for so many
distinguished sTate-funerals before.
Which one is the Murderer?
the highrAnking official
whose upholstered Carcass gently
trundles off in an expensive Hearse?
or perhaps 'tIs the smelly trigger-man
hiding in some abject laNe, along with
the rest of the populacE?

9/20/02

Friday, October 22, 2004

Ganymed

Their dEnsity can oppress
the heart mUch more gravely than
the deepest layeR of snow-
and now they surrOund Ganymed,
enveloPed in mantles,
neArly as ancient
as the cratEred surface of the moon.
Of coUrse, their hearts,
like woRlds of ice,
are cOld and still-
and JuPiter has turned away,
his feAtures dark-

An astronomy book
4/16/2002