on hearing and seeing Sharon Gal:
[there] The resulting sound was a muddy epos, all groans and fractures, guttural at its outset, it would then end up being channelled into a broken rhythm, monosyllabic, bone-tone bone-tonal. I saw a woman’s face Fellinian, I heard a face feline. An uneven matrix of high-pitched interjections urged the drama, with wailings, murky assortments of celtic vowels and gargarized cachinnations. Trying to supply for the disappearance of linguistic substance. [inside] Out of suspended intervals beyond any clause, a handful of notes came out of the silences, nearly abstracted out of space, sustained and profound, like the knowledge of grief: immanent to earth. And out of the depths of a lost country, my hidden sighs were released, hidden sighs once erased. Then she grinned. Sh.
another voice, the morning after, elsewhere:
With you I have searched for the immense and perfect disharmony, but these bass sounds resound even if you don’t excite them, even if you don’t rearrange the avalanches, the screams, the tiny creases in that safe shawl of comfort. It is you who move mountains inside, not faith. Between you and I a translucent glimmer flows, it moulds every past experience and shapes it into a mobile unspoken phrasing. Dispel if you wish, the mountains of a dispelled life. Dispel if you wish, but every other yesterday I could never quite encounter you, and now I dare not dispel myself. Dispel if you wish, this feeble life embroiled, dispel my embroiling. Let ardour become conversation, let spring sweep away withdrawal, let summer burn fierce and incautious, be with my keyboarded hands, key-locked hands, hands locked. Outside let the hurricane sweep. Leave the safe shawl of comfort against this morning’s iced sun, leave it, loosen, and let me hear the encounter in a flurry of excited strings.