Saturday, 25 March 2017
Friday, 24 March 2017
[Chorale] Laughing voice of Björk concatenates from a streetfront record store. Crestfallen voice of Thom Yorke ice-ages the beat-up beatbox. Majestic voice of Martha Reeves throws down the lowdown downtown. Iridescent voice of Frankie Valli wings from automatic wind-down windows. Metallic voice of Madonna mosquitoes in an earplug. Charmed voice of KC warms the sunless waiting room. Plaintive voice of Donald Fagen laments again on download, lost March. Droll voice of Taylor Swift trolleys along miles of supermarket aisles. Shouting voice of John Lennon attacks the languid Mason Jar café. Thin voice of Stevie Nicks quavers from a train door.
[Abstract] Sun-curled leaves taken by wind force fallen light-brown into rain sediments lie where drifted around ragged pools dried yesterday, a March of too much heat, then white rainfall. Elongated white trunks and piebald branches, whether bark or shadow, breathe morning air, existences for all seasons, their topmost dull greens entertaining daybreak, itself complete white-yellow. Siennas of houses steeped in light block the scene but washes of blue insist on more water, whether sky or human, moving where birds of orange indigo circle with purpose. Train window for emphasis frames these elements, commuter-viewers decked behind glass in their autumn fashions.