Leftwich/Kervinen
posted by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen at 12:31 PM
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Steve Dalachinsky
de chirico landscapes #2
escaping hours
shattered against infinite waiting
of dumb sentiment.
i am stuffed doll
staring thru your archway
at the shadow of your hairline
against grey-brown ivy platform
flat form
dying against the street
hugging the ground
a steam cloud in
space
heaving with a gourmand's glance
.......................... waiting to depart.
when i published it a good poet friend who disappeared said changho
knowse this to gourmand
originally i said gourmet's glance
he said you're not a gourmet you're a gourmand
so it got personal over my 1st thai meal
any way great talking with you the other day l sd
don't know where # one is hoops etc trains etc
cecil taylor in absentia < elvin jones tribute @ the blue note
until recently
cecil would play only on a
bo send or fer sob for
tonite one awaited him sub for
re fer
but he was a no/show send for
dense
money /fend er
bend/er
was whispered bender
into
an ear
we see that it did not mean a thing
into the air it whispered
but for the drummer we must keep playing
the blues
end for
option
umlaut <> on slaught ex act i tude re act off
ad
re
con verse serve multiples
lost swing
wings
boast
here the or lost not surely just freedom speaks
theory terror
bus end or refer to
file
away boost
dogyouham
good only
while supply lasts.
steve dalachinsky 6/04
posted by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen at 12:15 PM
Monday, January 30, 2006
Steve Dalachinsky
catchin some lzs (for louis zukofsky )
1
le urug trimspa
walk impotent memory
glish glish agleam
argar merging within / casino of dreams
alz tied to
he i'm hers
health mix dare i
say dreamsmemory whys winnings
to catch a gulp
of reality score a gultch of back money schooled
i graduated but.............
someone else's scenario
wanker mr.lexicon
no one belongs in the ice too long
teach me how to booby trap
the crocodile
show me how to lobster
the ideal
how to corner the border
2
spin nose adorned
well we ask the litter
genes writ be A
beginning learned object
trajected columns (c)on text
graduated but youth 16, 23,
19 tense tortured body
student ravenous
immigrant hatchery
skipped area
invincible proletariat
ahecht ahecht a critic coughs > information
trilling trilling trilling like a sterling bird
chambers witness experience
cracked carved leaves
borrowed from a vanquished repute
vanned couch askin askin great tooked
movin chandelier 1/2 lit
a vanquished culture
little magazines pethair (c)loner
hand-dated juvenile stew
fool the young girls don wit
va(r)se (ity) who does?
voce homme
quiet old eyes patient wander
a figure at the edge of the flux &
figurine
dropped the books to the floor
& they remain closed tho one he flaps open
shut open shut
with a whhhhhlop a whhhhhhhhlop
type scripted
all is done with
all is done with
son nets sun nets
on a cloudy day where's the denim
lie?
where's the rest of the chandelier's
glow?
why've we lost the losses?
lift zeal left
where does the bright go
when tented by
the storm?
3
control the phrase please
4
nada
is a look that penetrates me
deeply
free affordable
" i said i'm sorry - relax - relax"
la pintura devino a donde as she pulls the young
boy's fingers
& laughs
go anywhere memory as you step toward the end
fresh is the better of the whys
tho age tastes the better in the wash.
dalachinsky 9/17/04 nyc irt subway 9 train & columbia university
philosophy hall
posted by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen at 10:15 AM
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Steve Dalachinsky
The Chase
a religious man becomes a murderer
a murderer becomes a religious man
work this clay
like a soft body never touched
work it into shapelessness
(of all things)
the murderer
& the religious man
walk the same street
on the same nite
in the same shirt
in a town as big as my palm
the town is a shapeless mass
of cities
as big as my muscled
arm
the speaker & the slasher
remove the same hat
plead the same pleas
eat the same pie
assailant & victim are one
the world is divided by borders & seas
white crust
black wave &
breath
even as we speak even
now
the dungeon is being prepared.
steven dalachinsky
category 5
1.
little baby beast
boy
sitting on concrete
eating skewered
meat
this is the way we are
were
have become
piling concrete upon a living being
crowding in front of bowery mission
clapping our hands for universal peace
waiting for the doors to open
this is how the view is
captured
built
the strafings
odd moments of clarity
bygones going by
yet not forgetting the residue
not collecting the residuals
these people
all want to give mew something
before i dies
then take it away.
2.
bush bush bush bush
bush bush bush bush
bush bush bush bush
there i've said it. now hush.
3.
mush. slush. rush. flush.
4.
walking thru universe
wandering
grilled skewered
distracted by menus streetsigns & the moon
rollicking envy gone 'fore you've arrived
captured before hatched
defrocked angels lost little boys waiting for the doors to open
searching for lost entrances
camouflaged bullypulpits creepy tactless oratories
amongst flat landscapes.
5.
4 3 2 1 .......
posted by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen at 5:19 AM
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
Steve Dalachinsky
music - for Thomas
i could if i
could play
music could
if i could say
music would this way that way
the way the fingers dance
the way the singer takes a chance
&
i should
if i could & i would
if i could
play music
say music
be
music
||||||
unmetered music (for Thomas Chapin)
1. edit
Thomas
tonight the music
speaks for itself
it doesn't know you're gone
it doesn't know anything
it is only an instrument of itself
& the 4 men up there are its channels
i weep for an instance
& am out like flame to a
japanese lantern
gone up & out
my thin frame remains
as reminder of sentient
world
the pain has evaporated
like lantern's skin
& only those who loved you best
& knew you best
will have to endure the ashes
but tonite the music
speaks for itself
not a healing force
but a body of air pushed
thru the mouthes & fingers
of 4 men who didn't know you
& don't yet know you're gone
the music speaks to itself
in long & lazy soliloquies
fast abrupt choruses
& brokenhearted heart busting breaths
& the night expires with applause
& i keep your secret a little longer
inside me
tho i want to tell everyone
but the music speaks for itself
speaks for itself
& speaks for me
as if it already knows you
are gone.
2. cry me a river
i spill onto the floor
like a drink drying spent & drying
looking clear tho dark
i spill like the range of so many wet evenings
in an el nino year
of refusals & full moons
the night is a table
& i am a plain speaker
when it comes right down to it
& i announce with a vengeance
the sincerity & serenity
of an overanxious drink
damp & delivered
in one pathetic & poetic pour
onto the scuffed & faded plywood floor
& the music speaks
as if it knows you're gone
in a hot room
full of bodies & ribbons
some notes too numerous to consume
this is death's dark hour
oh dare i say it
even say such stupid things
the oblong lantern
has no light to give off
it just sits there in suspension
waiting for the sad soft ballad to end
as the drummer blows another bubble
& the bubble in my wife's dreaming mind
has not yet comprehended that you're gone
& therefore has not yet comprehended it must burst.
steve dalachinsky 2 of 2 unmetered music
2-13-98
posted by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen at 10:38 PM
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Steve Dalachinsky
A Letter to Thomas - steve dalachinsky
you're dead one week
oh what an awfully stupid thing to say
dead one week
tonight
another quartet in a different place
& i don't feel the same
myself
the flowers laid out for you
are blue & ochre birdwing things
on the drummer's shirt
with red flame
& dust exploding in my right eye
like a revolting soul
oh & the yellow daffodils that opened
over night
are mumbling something like smell us
no you should have smelled us
yesterday
today we only look good
but there's really nothing left
oh & how about that photo of you i received in the mail today
come all the way from scotland from a friend who thought he'd
send it 'cause he thought i felt "close" to your music
a photo taken of you in 1993 at the knitting factory
blowing the way you blow
oh & before i forget
me & this death of mine
that sits so noisy & sequestered
in all my aching bones -
tomorrow is your memorial
well the first one anyway
& you can bet i won't be going -
too far
or something like that
& a week's already passed
& a winter without snow
& the only flowers beside the flowers
on the drummer's shirt
& the daffodil's that my wife put in the kitchen
are the acanthus engraved on the tenor saxophone
& the roses given to the cellist in the film i saw this morning
& the bouquet left behind by the poet & then retrieved
after her reading tonight
& those two delightful little crocus buds
getting ready for spring
near n.y.u.
oh & next week this time will be two weeks
& more flowers will bubble like geysers
from beneath the earth
as if some shortcut had been taken
fueled by your newly gathered ashes
& your newly planted heart
& another week will pass
& then another
& another
& another
& other fictions will be written
that will be laced with
fact.
steve dalachinsky pg 2 of 2
A Letter to Thomas
posted by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen at 10:51 PM
Steve Dalachinsky
the ears of music - for Thomas
the ears of music
when the husks are stripped
away
the voice that resonates
when the duet
is in disjunctive harmony
brash sweet kernels
i speak to you as you
speak to me
this sound we hear
that is one in us all
&
all the silence
&
all the taste
& touch
& scent & sight
that is all
this very
big/small
WORLD.
posted by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen at 10:19 PM
Steve Dalachinsky
1-8-06
By Any Means (Gayle, Ali, Parker)
@ Soto Velez Center set 1 - Vision Club series
this is an historic concert with 2 packed sets @ 1 p.m. & 3 p.m. it is
the first time the band has played together in 10 years. the music is
riveting. Charles on alto and tenor. the group had disbanded for
several reasons after a brief stint as an avante-garde superpower. Yuko
& i pick up Rashied to go to gig . he thinks it's crazy to do a set so
early in the day. for him it's like the middle of the night. after set
1 he proclaimed that it wasn't so bad after all. and it wasn't.
ENGINES OFF PLEASE
(an epilogue)
1.
backed again red lit
backed up & go
/ stop as
off/on - a red candy kiss
men broke free from pupeteer
children held to..........
black hand / white enameled breath slow drive along back tracks
back tracked uniformly under / to exi(s)t
start flame anew & extinguish
the go-a-head trilling mournful tripp(l)
ing over the(m)self & opening like wing
breaking air ground breaking brakes off a gelling(of) language(s)
them(e) lit trembled atoms of (f)light
g - lor - ious arrows afire crimson/blue alterers
we worship @ nothing more-or-less-than
the.... ladder
pumpin up da occupancy with / in a sea of rolocs
take me back special rider take me back
backed again up-a-go & lit long a headwear o' finest
infinest
expansion afusi(o)n(')
an...........
2.
to retake the heart by any means
to regain our strength by any means
rewind the clock by any means
remain the song by any means
revamp the cords by any means
reveal the light by any means
reshape the durst by any means
redstrat nostop becool raindown reignover begunaringinof restart the
engine
by any means
hum resonating of assassinated giftgiver
hittin us on our hardhattedheads
to be young & gifted
to be old & gifted
black white yellow red blue pale dark juice & gifted
to rerun the meat by any means
reconstitute our constitution(s) by any means
restate the theme by any means
rework our lives by any means
reward the giftgivers
by taking their gifts (good gifts bad gifts)
to weep & forget.
3.
back here with all our laces tied together
in omni-versual thiiiis niiiissss
'n obliviousness & unflaggiiingniiisssss
flag tatooed to yer wrist
must remember to remember
remind us/selves ta re- member
remain in focus
restrain from fuckus
resist the urge to purge
backed again redlit/ backupped & gostopped
off/on a red candied kiss
men broke free from the puppeteer
ridin the rails toward wanders end.
set 2
god bless the child that's got his own
ajar & all that - for Thomas Chapin steve dalachinsky
we in the piano music
we play this impending dance
the dumb doom
they're putting you thru
movement reversed & inversion of marrow
dear sweet sax o phonist
present in rumi's open heart
the rumors spread
the sad & sorry plaintalk of recovery
the tool called miserable ego
& eager performance
petty anarchism
the powertrip of betrayals
(look at them up there where you should be)
to give you back your bones
your FULL life
to walk peaceful thru the tropics
you so love
topic of conversion & conversation
quickened & running the gauntlet
back backwards
in disjunctive harmony
where music's ears
buzz
like headswelling fever mosquitoes
(look at them up there where you should be)
Thomas my thought
with you tonight
in golgotham
CITY of Cities
shitty down pat
we all sitting pretty
with our blurred images
& fading jokes
look at them up there - LOOK AT THEM
this is the vision of Sodomizers & doctors
provisional gov'ts
this is our alternative to paradise
a goodnight kiss
& the curtains slowly closing
the curtains quickly pulled shut -
look at them up there look at 'em.
posted by Jukka-Pekka Kervinen at 10:13 PM
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