Berlin based collaborative queer sound/voice project.
On Lavender Hex: Track 3: The Sorrow Song is Ghosting the Theatre. Track 10: Out of this World. (words below)
On Bunch of Flowers: Track 15: Routes Out. (words below)
The Sorrow Song is Ghosting the Theatre
I am supposed to render myself adapted
but the sorrow song ghosts the theatre
lifetimes blinkered to self interest not the common good
I am supposed to me better, to me live well, to me —
travel agents, hot yoga and purchases; ginseng, notebooks
another pair of shoes
but the sorrow song is ghosting the theatre
it’s underneath; a quiet desperation
masked by the talking and talking, the diversions
of domesticity; fridge insurance, SIM cards and the
relentless routing of mono-crises
to deflect away from the systemic monopoly of power —
another war, a viral pandemic
immobilise us shrunken impotence, our sight lines cluttered
our mouths stuffed with media, to not name it and refuse it
the unjust, the violent
the vacuous calling itself democracy but
the sorrow song that is ghosting the theatre
refines our homing instinct, will not participate, lights behind
costume, set and script showing it for what is is uninhabited
the sorrow song is power, a low chanting, a lamenting wail
source for us, wind in the sail
the sorrow song guide us
Out of this World
This is our chance to get the world excited about space again – Mars One applicant
1. Mars One
What is the likelihood of this coming to pass?
There is a question about viability.
And how many people applied?
They say around 200,000.
And how many will be shortlisted?
10 groups of 4.
And when will they be leaving?
How long will the journey take?
Between 7 to 8 months
And will they return?
No, they will die there.
And how will they survive?
They will grow their own food.
And who are the funders?
And who will be watching?
People in front of their televisions.
And why are you asking?
Because I need someone to help me.
2. Landing back, June 15th 2016
The wide of the Kazakhstani plains, the charred shuttle that seered it’s way
through the atmosphere, crouched, sweating in metal-looped space suits they landed
muscle and bone density mass so sparse, inner ear a-skew they are carried in chairs
across the grasses. Medical teams and journalists surround, he is saying he feels fantastic,
a weak thumbs up, his pale, thin skin, not sure he can see so well, his eyesight blur
all that cranial pressure at zero gravity six months gazing down at the earth and back
don’t forget to look behind you they told him into all the darkness and the stars
Someone from the press calls Tim, how are you, how do you feel? And, seated,
a nurse wiping his re-entry sweat off his face in the sunlight, and feigning solid
in such crazy disorientation tells us Just truly elated… I mean just the smells of earth
are so strong… it’s just wonderful to be back… the fresh air is lovely.
It’ll be us interlocked fingers
and woven into each other
limbs and skin
warm by that fire in the
taking the night sky in to us
the galaxy ours
the milky way turning Jupiter
heraldic in Virgo
the long swing
– all the wandering ones
constellated in our favour –
in the Pleiades
60 miles up
meteor showers in Perseus, the Plough
circling the pole star
There will be a moon waxing in Cancer
then the dawn come in the east —
whitening out, cool
bringing us back down,
glowing red — the daybreak streak
bleeding the horizon
as the sun fires up
and we know it will be another hot day
and we will swim together
floating on our backs
I am leaving the buildings