- Notes: <br>The Sound Poem of 2014 is based on the texts of <a href="http://razdow.org/archive/2014/11/poetic-texts-2014">Poetic Texts 2014</a>, which in turn are based on the drawings of <a href="http://razdow.org/archive/2013/05/das-vermis-mysterias-of-the-ocean-2013">De Vermis Mysteriis.</a> <br><br> It was recorded in Max's apartment in New York, NY., in collaboration with Ollie Razdow.<br><br>10'10", stereo sound.<br>
Voice: Max Razdow
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Music: Ollie Razdow
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Transcription:
“Yo ollie have you ever seen anyone do this with a cat?”
“Yeah I’ve seen you do it.”
“Are you recording now?”
“Yeah.”
The Dog’s Tongue
#10
Forever have we wallowed forever have we brayed
and the dog’s tongue carves out a river, a gorge of spit and mantras that beat a singular rainbow.
A tooth for all five fingers,
A tooth for all five fingers.
#5
A twist away from the statuary
Blind and wrestling the dragon
(laughter)
I am the jagged pitcher.
If I know anything, it is that I can see nothing:
a stone.
Yet, there out past the rock born vision I’m waiting for the lion,
I’m waiting for the engine,
the tree toed patron.
#8, #8
The middle Norn, the brine headed daughter
who holds the winter flower
she allows the spirit’s roundness
counting scales upon the salmon.
Each is her reflection,
each is her own meaning,
each is her division
upon the ice pure water.
#15, The Moon Solo
(music)
The moon solo.
The moon solo.
The lunar extremity.
#9
Norn that has slipped
Norn into that standing water
Math, I’ve lent my name, my finger to your speaking
and as I try speaking I try to find the serpent
The serpent in the wind, the whispers of bitten apes
Upon the speaking, the roll cells, I’ve let my mouth connect her to my furnace,
and I am readiness, being,
a statue
a meadow.
#3
Oh pull down the clouds
dear hand, pull down the clouds
pull down the clouds and maybe the fires of burning horizons
for the tears pool like oil on the watery heath
and all her scales have tipped
and we are underneath them.
#11
so so so
you fell serpent
cable of all meaning
I’ve set you alight and hold you,
I hold a candle.
Its wick, its kettle
the many hydric meanings
you have come to sunder
they are the wills encampment
upon the lunar surface.
O serpent
o feather I’ve set my cup upon you
and hope of hopes is finding
a drop of story’s ending
#14
Ah, ah ah.
The great arc has arrived.
Ah the sun!
The sun spit dragon!
it has risen from the top of our mainmast
it has flowed from the gasp of our semen.
And in the husk of that old fire is the pit of dying memory
which drags its hand across our barque as I journey with my shadow.
Telmex
Vinri
Stuul
Olmu;
these names are a callow codex
the whole intrepid cuts of its wake
a shell made fist of meaning.
“uhn.” (clears throat).
#7
We’ve walks on sands moping
For a hallow.
We’ve skated on water’s gifts.
And now we call for didgeridoos for the leviathan.
Dear, it says, beast!
Please take this pixelated ____
in your black jars
and tell us nothing ever.
#6
Is it half me underwater here?
A nebulous case for this late pinnacle’s head
Which holds aloft the serpent.
Its head at which my eye is talking,
at which my eye is watching.
A dream of total being
A dream of ancient water
in which I was not fishing.
“Alright last one.”
#13
In between the arms and the three best of our towers,
the sinking first Norn she is the fence crowned daughter.
She is the beaming lamp
That enters fiery gardens.
In her place,
In her memory,
In my memory
In the shadow of the ice moon floating here,
memory, that balance which I can never teach, which I cannot remember.
The frozen face of tear light,
which I cannot remember.
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