LA | NY A Special Edition of The East Village

Guy Bennett

Without a rent, without a seam, this work.

Its thread fields cop to gray -- a gleam.

With sudden sparks on the violin and one dull gong.

His brittle insistence on color honing our fine breath.

Dream, rim, tin; attenuated.

A string of subtle shifts.

A particular succession.

In this the sound must out: these tones.

To create as many connections as possible.

To swift line, taut form, fleeting.

The echo arch, the thought the melisma made.

It's always all over before it starts.


	...and in particular: it's always on to the many 
	as before.

Our fine breath honing color,
a thread without a seam, this work 
shifts brittle tin, its rim attenuated 
a string of sparks these tones create, 
it starts the arch insistence made 
to gleam gray, gong-dull, the one 
dream subtle, a sudden succession 
the violin fields with sound 
all over, as possible connections 
echo on to line the swift melisma --
without this out, a rent must cop
his taut thought-form, fleeting.