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

Sidways kisses


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