three trumpets, three dancers and a percussionist seek alignments of sound, dance, vibration. roy campbell, jr., dave douglas, baikida carroll; k.j. holmes, sondra loring, jon kinzel; susie ibarra
c o n s t e l l a t i o n
How soon can you capture something
when it is fleeting so?
Where do my thoughts go in this silver, this brass
Muted fingers the repetition of train tracks
Is there some thing that tells us
Silence is a gong?
Talk stars. Aspects. Conjunctions. Oppositions.
Organizing the body of sound, the electricity of belief,
fleshing out a mythic blueprint.
“Resonation without form is spirit”, she said.
Ecliptic: frequencies bend the space into profiles,
magnetic crystallizations of vibration.
A spiral inside me to break the inertia – dna, heart, desire –
The arc of transition, a mirror to the bigger sky.
The night is not black,
the earth is a moving shadow on the light.
A high note tunneling away to the exalted,
rendering discordant meanderings of flesh
salty and sweet.
In a club downtown
Three men side by side
light in their hands
blow silver and brass ornaments into my ears.
I am bending inside stillness the sound bending me
disturbing me to confused rapture.
Delicious magicians appear so solid;
My electrical system is being rewired,
a constellation realigned.
K.J. Holmes, 1999