1. |
movements 1-3
08:46
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HEATHERWALKER
a second can begin
in the middle of another second
a life can live
inside of another life
we make nests
inside of homes we make
inside of houses
cities inside of cities
gods inside of other gods
a book can begin in medias res
a second can begin in medias
of another second
small yellow and black birds
claim a sky inside the grasses
a sky inside a greater sky
look at them
what I have created–
how many words
have I created?–
they nest inside of one another–
FEATHERMUCKER
( ( ( a cage of ribs pointing
toward the sky, this wingéd
thing : no longer feathered,
hardly flesh. what’s left
is part of the concrete,
part of the native city.
a lump of calcium.
a hard sharp beak half open
a caw, a cry of fear, a sigh.
what creature was this that fell broken
into the gutter, the ditch?
ribs pointing at the sky. let your eyes
follow their arc into
the dark air : you think it’s night
but it’s bodiless feathers
blocking the light of the sun ) ) )
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2. |
movement 4
02:32
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HEATHERWALKER (Ghazal)
You said, I hope sleep comes
East out of the sun, if it comes
At all. We weren’t sure the last time
We’d known sleep, but if it came
our bodies would rise
Into the sky. Our eyes came
Close to closing, but never did.
I asked who was coming
Down the hallway, and I heard
You say, A ghost.
Maybe she will put us to sleep,
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3. |
movement 5
02:47
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FEATHERMUCKER
You said, If you need something
to bite, here is my hand, my fingers,
my wrist. I bit down hard.
When your skin split, I choked–
you bled feathers. They tumbled out
like dice, a bet I lost filling my lungs,
filling my mouth. I couldn’t spit
fast enough, I bit my tongue and cheeks,
bleeding now myself, sucking muck
into the swamp of my throat, dark
mud, all thick and grit. You moved
to pull fistfuls of feathers from my mouth.
Hopeless. You still bled, feathers
flowing from your wounded hand.
I panicked. I clamped my jaw shut.
You said, Open up.
Motherfucker, Open up.
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4. |
movements 6-10
13:52
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WEATHERLURKER
) ) ) waves wash steady against
the broken bones of former cities
a hole in the landscape, fishless.
drone of wind eroding
an expanse of asphalt,
shifting the earth under buildings
made to hold us, lift us up.
you said, I’ve given up. I’ll be dead
by the time our time has come.
I heard your words, listless
over the silence of surf. my head
pressed against an unstable wall.
at your touch on my shoulder
I turned to face you. all
I saw : a vastness of wreckage,
city of boarded windows. I watched
another wall succumb to the water
landing gently in a plume
of dust, noiseless.
you said, I did my best to save you.
I know this is a passing vision : how
quiet in the wake of violence ( ( (
When Acting as a Particle II
REBOUND, RESTART, RENEW
solo for feeding-back guitar
When Acting as a Wave I
WEATHERLURKER
Over a clear horizon there appeared a column of smoke,
strange and violent. The landscape aflame with flowers
and breathing like a giant. Ghostly plume filling the sky
above the plains, its soot rising from a crater
several yards across
and what lay at its center: a nest
compressed into stone. Curled in its heart,
a bird and a mouse, scorched into a labyrinth of bone.
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5. |
movement 11
04:20
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FEATHERMUCKER (Plume)
(text not sung)
You said, There’s a plume in the dirt,
under asphalt, mingled with the infrastructure.
I heard, bloom, and thought a field,
goldenrod and fireweed underground,
forgotten. I heard feather, convinced
you’d carved a quill and buried it. You said again,
A plume, and I heard toxic, but couldn’t
understand how it moved, how it got here.
You said, Try thinking of it as a glacier,
cutting a path through the dirt and bedrock,
Passing through mantle, crust, pooling in low places.
The creature
found its way to the bluffs and through limestone,
burst into the air above the river and screamed
like a pained demon, crashing into the water.
There was no splash and hardly a disturbance
in the air. How stunted and sick, that feathered
thing. It did not move the hearts of my neighbors.
It evoked no pity from me. It sullied the waters
out of spite as it died. I expect it to be reborn,
monstrous phoenix in a fallow field.
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6. |
movement 12
03:01
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FEATHERMUCKER
Like a dog ridding itself of pests, the truck
shook while you leaned out the window,
You said stop following me,
why can’t you leave me alone.
The truck heaved
forward you turned to block my path, stomping
the brake like an insect.
scratching at our busy blood
You said, Get in.
Motherfucker, Get in.
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7. |
movement 13
02:49
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HEATHERWALKER
) ) ) a feather against
the blue of sky : a
mark on faded paper.
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8. |
movements 14-15
05:48
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HEATHERWALKER
One day we will arrive at the place where
knowing knows no bounds. We will cast off our
masks and sing, until
knowing opens
wide its knowing eyes and says I know you
We will
be content in knowing only the songs
we brought with us, only the things we could
fit inside our fragile heads, our small hands
When Acting as a Wave II
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Ted Moore Chicago, Illinois
Ted Moore is a composer, improviser, intermedia artist, and educator based in Chicago. His work focuses on fusing the sonic,
visual, physical, and acoustic aspects of performance and sound, often through the integration of technology.
Currently, Ted is pursuing a PhD in Music Composition at the University of Chicago.
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