carson-beloveds

November 24, 2024

Chaos overshadows us. / Unsheltered sorrow shuts upon us. / We are strangled by bitter light. / Our bones shake like sticks. / We snap. / We grope. / We pant and go dry. / Our tongues are black. / All day is endless. / Nights endless. / Our skin crawls, it cracks. / Our room is a cat who plays with us. / Our hope is a noose. / We take our flesh in our teeth. / The autumn blows us as chaff across the fields. / We are sifted and fall. / We are hung in a void. / We are shattered on the ocean. / We are smeared on the darkness. / We are slit and drained out. / Little things drink us. / We lie unburied. / We are dust. / We know nothing. / We can not answer. / We will speak no more. / BUT WE WILL NOT STOP. / For we are the beloveds. / We have been instructed to call this His love.

Previous
Next

Thought:

“We don’t have an endgame. There is no final. It’s only next. There’s only the next thing to be discovered. And the next universe. That’s the criteria of this art form: It’s an expanding art form. It’s like the idea of an expanding universe you know. You know a little bit here. The more you know it expands. You don’t stay with anything you know. And people can have their own ways of approaching. If they want to be traditional and stay with something, that’s all fine. But this is not the way that we think about music or art. It’s an expanding thing. It keeps going.”

Henry Threadgill

INSTAGRAM

BANDCAMP

YOUTUBE