The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

August 22, 2011

the future devours the past

firestorm, because of anything, and your awareness funnels spiralling into
firestorms were there firestorms over forests and cities were there
firestorms over forests and cities firestorms across the plains radiations
everywhere firestorms across the plains and radiations everywhere laminar
erasures of firestorms scuttling breathing the firestorms breathing the

Azure and the calls at night

Azure, whose hearing is best, heard the clicks all through the night in
the West Jordan development; they were lost on me. One or two, that's all.
Later, processing the files, I came up with the above. Some unfamiliar and
quiet insect, call and response across trees and lawns, temperature 78F,
humidity 33%, high for here. Our skin feels like it's disappearing. The
clicks are haunting, almost in audible, some in series, some seemingly
isolated. Their structure is odd, a quiet primary before the loud
secondary, followed by one or two - not echos, but deliberate signature.
For myself, I realize how poor my hearing is, and I wonder constantly what
my instruments sound like to others; like Beethoven, I ride a crest of
sonic coherency, surely half reconstructed in my mind. I couldn't hear,
out there in the still of the night, what Azure heard; I was in tears...

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