photo by Gregorio Fabi

Punk-Rock Night Song

A sense of sweetness in distortion – an ignition of green crystals, of caves in the teenage heart in the blue eye, between the teeth the strength to shout builds

A sense of sweetness in distortion

– an ignition of green crystals,

of caves in the teenage heart

in the blue eye, between the teeth

the strength to shout builds –

leaves anger in electrical distortion

still from the stalactites between the bones

an iridescent song, reminiscent of punk

of the friend I sang with –

building rhythm from the intended movement

in the air as out of nowhere shook the walls

of the room and the castle is never

still but lives and still raises

– continues in time only remembering

of affection, putting yourself inside the irises

friends in the excitement, shaking of snare drums

and very shiny brass and enamels

they cover the tools like nuggets.

The eye turns towards the cave –

inside the skull and between the ribs

and sees a bright blackblue

and very green and nocturnal –

It always remains quiet in time,

but to music on electrocuted strings

awaken, in the simplest rhythm

and free true without masks –

in singing and high vibrato

and deep of bass and kickdrum, the voice

it’s real invisible spirit, identity

more intimate, torrential truth –

still together with the word –

there is no other way than to play

beyond each volume up

to the experiment invention of the parts

construction of agreements, dominant

they rise in third from first tone

– there remains a perennial atmosphere

it enters like ice of blades that I listen to

as well as breathing them into the freezing air.

Rhythm in communion, explodes –

fizzy scald or screech

incendiary signs of peaceful waiting thunder.

Un Chat : Arthur (A Cat : Arthur)

A cat remembers Montmartre