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January 14, 2013


Milo Fine (drum set [bowed cymbals])/Davu Seru (drum set)/Paul Metzger (stringed instruments)/Joseph Damman (guitar)

Sound sculpting begins at 7p. $5 suggested donation.

the horse has six legs. he came late to the party. had to stop in the woods to pee on the way. broke his stride. his gait. his pace. the church bell bends around the corner to see if crossing the street is a good idea. the silver manhole cover in the street was singing. a tune he learned in school. about a horse. a red horse. red horse with six legs. the song was in 6/4 time. its name was dave. ~~ the taxi drives over the manhole cover in the street. the church bell continues pondering the safety of crossing. the taxi is without passengers. passenger holiday. all the possible fares for the taxi had gone to the seashore. by train. wouldn’t be back until after dark. and while at the seaside, they would all witness the clashing of the barracudas. ~~ these toothy fish, elegant in their sleek and low-slung chassis, raced toward each other from opposite ends of the bay, frothing the water as they slipped past each other. to the applause and cheering form the not-riding-in-a-taxi people on the shore. ~~ over at one corner of the beach, a spanish dancer tried to click her tap shoes in the sand. her silver shoe cleats flashed in the sun. the sand flew about in great swirling fans, shoots, sparkling snips and waves…but no tapping. no clicking. the dancer transfigured by the lack of expected sound. held in a trance. open to discovering another way to think about her at, her dance. ~~ the bell on the trolley ending its run from the center of the city to the concession stand at the upper reach of the beach startled the dancer. startled the not-in-the-taxi folk. startled the fish. unstartled was the water. the ocean. the waves washing ashore in sentence after sentence, phrase after phrase, word after word of its story. the story of the horse with six legs. give it the dancing shoes of the spanish dancer and watch what happens. give the shoes to the fish and watch what happens. give the fish to the taxi and watch what happens. give the bell to he dancer, the street to the beach, the dance to the song, the sound to the light…and watch what happens.

lean back against the window and feel the vibrations. the glass in the window has six legs. it has walked all the way here from the moonlit and silent desert.

the table enjoys lucid dreaming. know how to direct the events in her dream. when the table saw plays a tune, the table know the words. when the table leg does a dance, the table knows the horse. when the extra leaf slides into place in the empty space the table offers, there is a sense of closure. over the years the damp air form the sea seaps into the table. slowly. slowly slowly. warping the grain. bending the grain like a bell. sound stretched out over so many decades listening must be named patience to hear it. chairs have been set up between pages of the calendar. invitations have been sent. they are in the mail. the letter carriers each ride a horse with six legs. the invitations arrive in plenty of time for the audience members to find their numbered seats, and settle in for the long performance. concerto for table and century.

behind the cold night lingers the sound of the moon. slipping along the frozen ground. the moon has six legs. each shod in cotton shoes. moonlight falling on snowy fields lights the dream lurking in the shadowy footprints tracking the moon’s swift passage across the night. the stars retreat. pull back from the stage of night. allow more room for the horses of the moon to loose themselves in the vast open room of the crying night.

something rattles inside the machine. a specific piece of the works has decided to be something else. cog no longer working