Thursday, April 26, 2012

D Note love letter 4/26/12

D motion, There is much we are excited about this weekend. The African music and dance Saturday afternoon is going to be awesome. If that won't lift your spirit, we worry about you. Then there's THE BAD FAERIE BALL/ BELTANE W/ Angus Mohr Saturday night! How often to you get an invitation to dress up as a bad faerie and dance to epic highlands rock and roll? Take advantage! Reverb and the Verse is playing tonight, Thursday, April 26, and they are super duper uper good local hip hop. And it's free! Also, heads up, there is going to be a Santana tribute band playing with a War tribute band next Saturday for Cinco De Mayo. For the rest of the scoop go to Love to you and yours, D mote Extra Credit: By request, here's a poem by Adam D. (Thanks Keriba and Rebecca) Music For My Child "I have seen it. What? Eternity. It is the sun matched by the sea." --Arthur Rimbaud 1. Somewhere inside the rainbow meant Rimbaud; the spectrum of color caused by the sun matching the sea, physics that you can trace. The mathematics are lost in the lattice work, in the infinite order upon chaos, where every opposite is a compliment. Think of the way the sea water evaporates in the sun and recycles itself in the atmosphere, and conversely, the way the heat of the sun is cooled by the sea and sprouts life, the endless showdown where the two meet, here, where life begins, where any two meet, where all difference becomes one, the paradoxes never ending, always begun again where the out breath meets the in. The sun matched by the sea. I imagine myself there, where the two meet, where the cool meets the heat, the wet and dry coming together, the feeling of that frisson starting from a singular point of thought and then spread instantly out over the wide sea. It reminds me of the feeling I get when a cool breeze caresses my skin on a hot day, that perfect synergy, except spread out wide over the massive surface of the sea. All that push and pull of drying up and wetting down is where the magic happens, the perpetual motion machine out of which life comes, a factory of life made of nothing but sun and sea, the life, the living, all desire for living, comes out of Thee, This, That, comes out of It, the Mother and Father, this back and forth, eternally, from external to internal, in to out. 2. Then there's where the sun matches the sea in the evening, via the moon, the sun reflected in the moon reflecting on the water, the moon glade, the shine of day upon night, reflected obliquely, just as, inversely, the shadow makes a little night in day, just as, likewise, good always comes from bad, bad from good, up from down, etcetera, this and that chasing each other around. We rolled around and had a ball. "It's kept together moving all around." 3. Shoot for the ball of clay. Roam time and space with your mega-zoom telescope until you have known the woman on the moon, golden, her mouth half open in ecstacy like Teresa of Avalon, or Marilyn Monroe, a moon crater for a mole, caught halfway between the sun and shadow, in the crepusculer joy of union. (Say it in Spanish and crepuscular sounds more like herself; crepusculario.) The dusk chasing his sister dawn, like the two lovers on Keat's Urn. Then magic hour turns into the witching hour; the phantom light is caught in a photograph on a southern Missouri night; like underwater light, wavery and wet, flickering like candlelight, in the glow of which everyone becomes suddenly themselves, and everything else becomes a blend of everything else. The music here is bewitching, the rhythm takes you with it, the rhythm is all of you, all of it. 4. Until we arrive at a future star, a dream, around which all of the planets dance. The music of the spheres entrance the occupants there like the relief of gravity does here, so that there is no choice but to dance. Already in language there is music, but what if language was pure music? the music of becoming, as if communication were eradicated except for the choir, become a gem-like flame of communion. That is what I want for you, a place where every word is sung, every step danced, everyone both with and alone, until, as a poet once predicted, you can no longer tell the dancer from the dance, the singer from the song. It would sound like this... 5. What Jonah said, "Please lift my withered friend." What Max said, "Here is you." What Piper said, "Don't throw away the good luck of being human." What Miranda said, "also a superhero." What Diane said, "See to business." What Kate said, "I'm moving in spirals to dust off the world." What Kate said, "Love is supposed to be something sacred." What Peter said, "For those willing to listen, this one is for you." What Mary said, "Never open bottles of love potion with your teeth." What I didn't say. It would sound like this...

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