Saturday, August 13, 2016

Popo 4: Regarding Bozi Boziana's Troupe

[DRC]

Popo stylistic.

Popo 4 naughty 
Popo millennials.

Popo. 
Ya-ye!

Birds. Of, of 
... 

A fine plume
Turns awkward  
Phrases into gold.

In a, in a
Hid Sapeur nest.

Dance. To
A mellow, mellow.
Dune. To.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~~

Nota (Hoya!): 
This 2011 
Vindeo waz, waz 
Lost 4 a while
Which I'd thote wud b for Eva. 

Ende sowen I again founded it 
(Yesterday, ev'n, Nov 16)
2020,
I felt free to re-rearrange delite.

Monday, August 08, 2016

MUSIC (Classic): Tabu Ley's Marie Clara

Music tells you a thing about where, in Time's spatial segments, a person has been, truly. It is an avenue to the soft wares of the soul. And the mind. Listening to an old song that one remembers returns many things we fumble to put together and make co-here with us at any precious moment of presence, or every which one. And so it is with Marie Clara

Music from the past tells us things we knew, naggingly. Things we knew we hadn't forgotten, but didn't have to remember -- and in that way thought were gone. Simply gone. Never to return in the same old way. As flashes in the deep sky, which recur. Perhaps. Twinkling stars we could see in brief moments in the dark, when ever we allowed our eyes to rise above all the whirlwind of life, and when the sky in its majesty likewise allowed. And, ah, behold.

See. We don't allow the past too much room in our active memories, much as we try. And so we build soft traps and cages to catch and keep it. Nay, to imagine that we can catch as catch can and keep a semblance of it. All them flashes. To make it somehow reachable in our private nests and public nets. But it values its freedom. As we do ours. Including the freedom we didn't quite know that we had to not remember. And so it is with Marie Clara. Whom one is glad to have once again, here (like this), even if only for a while. For this gem of a moment that's so orchestral, and so fine. And only for oneself. After all these years.


C
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