song unsung

January 28, 2009

dark
eyed
junco
on
felled
branch
downed
power
lines
ice
storm
in
december

snow
bound
angels
story
telling
recalling
recounting
their histories
searching
for
something
in
each
other

inked
stars
fall
on
papered
walls
remembering
forgotten
dream
land
scapes

sounding
words
before
un
spoken
whispered
carried
held
released

trains
hum
empty
bellied
silos
sleep
smokestacks
smoke
hearts
beat
in-time
beating
be-dum
be-dum
be-dum

endless
winter
flowers
hoarfrost
icicles
frozen
beauty
astounding
alone-ness

counting
back
wards
circling
1
1
0
1
driving
no
where
in
particular
back
roads
wide
open

10
windows
white
to
grey
faded
polaroids
kept
memories
lost

children
displaced
hopscotch-ing
chalking
longing
for
home
julia
pencils
letters
un
written
un
read

heavy
sighs

deafening
silence

breathe
ingrid
breathe

january
comes
and
goes
shedding
names
returning
to
seed
time
spent
waiting
for
spring

two
swallows
diving
flitting
flighting
wings
a flutter
finding
something
in
each
other

telephone
lines
cross
crossed
soft
voices
afternoon
yawns
blue
cotton
clouds

there
to
here
1000
+
miles

kismet
day
dreamers
dreaming
of
flying

falling
falling
falling

ice storm in december

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3 Responses to “song unsung”

  1. joyce naoye kawashima said

    that is the most beautiful blur that i’ve seen in a long time. your work with your husband lead me to your solo creations. I just wanted 2 take moment & let u know your fans (i) appreciate ur artistry.

  2. spmxy said

    wow. that was an intense rush. i found the unspoken rhythms, the sounds our brains fill in through association and acoustical ecology, firstly of the numericals:

    circling
    1
    1
    0
    1

    //

    10
    windows
    white
    to
    grey

    & then the performance notations (or what i term the grapholects):

    heavy
    sighs

    deafening
    silence

    breathe
    ingrid
    breathe

    to be so quintessentially performative that they released themselves with an electric intensity through conductive finger movements (like when a conductor lilts & wafts an orchestra, or a raver tracks out the trance techno dance tempo with glo-stick movements – it’s the idea that poetry shares a language closest to dance, where articulation occurs – most importantly – at the extremities of the vessel. a poet’s fingers are precognitive with rhythm when we listen to music and essential when we shape, pull and thread words out of our head during the composition process).

    this piece is aching to be read. i love the structural restraint, your conceit to pop & yet how you push the words and rhythms to then break down (as all good poets should – words are there to be pushed over the edge… of a line) & the very fact that for an instance – 1ne sheer spotlight bright sweat browed moment – we’re up there on the stage with you, feeling the restless tension of the crowd, the need to gather, to summon them to us and take them line diving. yes, spoken word is live diving into something under… that depth dove down to being either an exquisite need to hold your breath or a struggle and escape from to get back to the surface… or rather the conversation you were having with somebody else).

    the brilliance, however, comes in the way you self-reference the title of this body of your work, everything prior causing us to read it – but for only an instant – as 1ne word, when in fact it’s 2wo words. i triple backtracked it in the initial reading, the sound created an echo of editorial checking which made it sound like this:

    two
    swallows
    diving
    flitting
    flighting
    wings
    a flutter
    finding
    a flutter
    something
    a flutter
    in
    each
    other

    i found the beginning of that stanza was also echoic, but it was conjuring an unwritten word, the ‘diving / flitting / flighting’ fracturing so you almost hear ‘ diving / flitting / fighting flighting’. i love it when poems lunge like that. it articulates the rupture of the worlds present.

    i’d love to include this poem in my phd research, if i may. i’m writing a thesis on performance poetry and the process by which we write it (i study in western australia, same place hugh jackman and sam worthington went). i think as a spoken pop poet, you are a perfect evolution and extension from laurie anderson and carry the form out of avante experimentalism and further into the realm of pop music, which is a place poetry likes to call home so it can escape all the academics from time to time (as a performance poet, the academic poetry community look down their nose at me for what i do, something aristotle initiated and the ’60s french sound poets perpetuated – they see performance poets as a vulgar need for poets and poetry to be seen as populist and popular, which isn’t our fault: poetry ITSELF wants to be popular… we merely concede). i’m essentially creating a theoretical framework for performance poetry that presents it as the experimental hotbed of furthering the arc of the tradition, granting access once again to the populace who feel estranged by an academic need for word greed. it’s a new paradigm now, so lets shape it into happen, right?

    do you have any writings on your writing process i could possibly read please, other than what is here, on this winter’s blog, which is just incredible by the way. it’s good to find you again after all these years, me being 13een when elephant box made me sit up and pay attention, both lyrically & visually, but more so lyrically – for some reason that song came up as a reference point to a lifestyle blog post i had to write yesterday, which has led me here. on a sidenote, elephants have been appearing elsewhere as a result of me posting the elephant box clip to my feed, people pointing out their own elephants, either in their feed, or in the room in general, or still in the box it came in. as a result, i am on the look out for dumbo feathers, to either keep or pass on.

    & why comment when you can connect, or attempt to at least? but then i was never good at getting to the point, there always being so many points of interest to point out along the way.

  3. spmxy said

    wow. that was an intense rush. i found the unspoken rhythms, the sounds our brains fill in through association and acoustical ecology, firstly of the numericals:

    circling
    1
    1
    0
    1

    //

    10
    windows
    white
    to
    grey

    & then the performance notations (or what i term the grapholects):

    heavy
    sighs

    deafening
    silence

    breathe
    ingrid
    breathe

    to be so quintessentially performative that they released themselves with an electric intensity through conductive finger movements (like when a conductor lilts & wafts an orchestra, or a raver tracks out the trance techno dance tempo with glo-stick movements – it’s the idea that poetry shares a language closest to dance, where articulation occurs – most importantly – at the extremities of the vessel. a poet’s fingers are precognitive with rhythm when we listen to music and essential when we shape, pull and thread words out of our head during the composition process).

    this piece is aching to be read. i love the structural restraint, your conceit to pop & yet how you push the words and rhythms to then break down (as all good poets should – words are there to be pushed over the edge… of a line) & the very fact that for an instance – 1ne sheer spotlight bright sweat browed moment – we’re up there on the stage with you, feeling the restless tension of the crowd, the need to gather, to summon them to us and take them line diving. yes, spoken word is live diving into something under… that depth dove down to being either an exquisite need to hold your breath or a struggle and escape from to get back to the surface… or rather the conversation you were having with somebody else).

    the brilliance, however, comes in the way you self-reference the title of this body of your work, everything prior causing us to read it – but for only an instant – as 1ne word, when in fact it’s 2wo words. i triple backtracked it in the initial reading, the sound created an echo of editorial checking which made it sound like this:

    two
    swallows
    diving
    flitting
    flighting
    wings
    a flutter
    finding
    a flutter
    something
    a flutter
    in
    each
    other

    i also found that the beginning of that stanza was also echoic, but it was conjuring an unwritten word, the ‘diving / flitting / flighting ‘ fracturing so you almost hear ‘ diving / flitting / fighting flighting’. i love it when poems lunge like that. it articulates the rupture of the worlds present.

    i’d love to include this poem in my phd research, if i may. i’m writing a thesis on performance poetry and the process by which we write it (i study in western australia, same place hugh jackman and sam worthington went). i think as a spoken pop poet, you are a perfect evolution and extension from laurie anderson and carry the form out of avante experimentalism and further into the realm of pop music, which is a place poetry likes to call home so it can escape all the academics from time to time (as a performance poet, the academic poetry community look down their nose at me for what i do, something aristotle initiated and the ’60s french sound poets perpetuated – they see performance poets as a vulgar need for poets and poetry to be seen as populist and popular, which isn’t our fault: poetry ITSELF wants to be popular… we merely concede). i’m essentially creating a theoretical framework for performance poetry that presents it as the experimental hotbed of furthering the arc of the tradition, granting access once again to the populace who feel estranged by an academic need for word greed. it’s a new paradigm now, so lets shape it into happen, right?

    do you have any writings on your writing process i could possibly read please, other than what is here, on this winter’s blog, which is just incredible by the way. it’s good to find you again after all these years, me being 13een when elephant box made me sit up and pay attention, both lyrical & visually, but more so lyrically – for some reason that song came up as a reference point to a lifestyle blog post i had to write yesterday, which has led me here. on a sidenote, elephants have been appearing elsewhere as a result of me posting the elephant box clip to my feed, people pointing out their own elephants in their feed, or in the room, or still in the box it came in. as a result, i am on the look out for dumbo feathers, to either keep or pass on.

    & why comment when you can connect, or attempt to at least? but then i was never good at getting to the point, there always being so many points of interest to point out everywhere.

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