home movies [2015]

[…] snow has begun to fall across beams of street light — 

a car is driven forward into all and)

found a table : and a manic, middle-aged man attempts to join us in an instant) 

is driven away, 

and the wife returns from the restroom with a woman from Dakhabrakha / 

and 75 Dollar Bill. […]                                                                         

[there is a fair amount of sitting until there isn’t] — René Auberjonois — 

smiling at the lights…

drones are established and fade away { } 

and four young women dance until they are empty)

(and they are empty holding hands and empty)     

I drink water and think about resurrecting Urecco Trio. […] […] […]

(apologies to Dan Orme and the Art Ensemble of Chicago 

and all those beautiful Japanese women) 

— all those beautiful Japanese women — […]

*a moment is taken 

— as the temperature in the room is realized — 

to observe teenagers pretending to not have sex*

[…] 

: the wife : the ceiling : the construction on Woodward 

: the line for a sandwich in the cafeteria at work 

: Muriel Rukeyser’s “A Certain Music” : projections 

: cannibalistic intentions : the filthy inside of the microwave 

: the coyotes out back : dead wrestlers 

: Mike & Becky’s place on the 19th : dawn again and snow… 

and Miles Davis’s Dark Magus)

[…]

the middle-aged man returns and finds a seat on the floor next to Dakhabrakha

(later, they will leave (together) before the music starts […] and the music starts 

: and Mica is a guitar or a spicy microphone, creeping along animated walls :

and I am seen — by cigarettes and that time at Deer Park Funland — 

smiling 11/4 time at Greg Baise 

(groovy, 

like that Ellery Eskelin show at that place in Ann Arbor that no longer exists, 

or something)

          __spinning, spinning, spinning…

          into toy Holland and Deer Park Funland again)

          (never has there been so much crying     into yellow)

          ) and no one : is happy : about the choices that are being made

               in their honor__                                                                           { }

people can’t dance, to drones again, but Micachu and the Shapes. […] 

loneliness / a sweaty, desperate, empty man / manic, middle-aged —
everyone enters and exits the street light at exactly again / 7:30 AM / 
the first to our car) (the headlights harbor projections or... I am then, too

[everyone was so naive back then, smoking : on all those reels]

[…]

the ride home is cold / the wife is cold,

and there is a familiar basset hound 

bounding along through old snowscapes and beams of street light

to the tune of “Low Dogg” and)     driving is forward into all and)

[…]

"What is my name?" : ("Am I on this one?") […]