T.W.C.

24. London. PhD student. Poetry->Music.

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don’t let them hang you by the lips

form is fluid,

content even more so

I WOULD LIKE constant reassurance that im not fucking up in post scripts to emails scheduling supervision meetings but APPARENTLY that’s not how it works in phd😑😑😑

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timorous crooner

sitting just outside

during nighttime when

plum trees grow

now winter—

she shivers the leaves

easy vibration

in the purple snow

she is flakes that creak

together beneath

the cloud of forget

I unknow

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I’ve come to the east

end, healing music

playing as I drink

Darjeeling

winter morning scatters the bare sumac

except for its red cones

against the opposite apartment block

accepting the silence

embody in all time

the end of nothing

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This was last year. Still getting samples cleared for everything since…

https://soundcloud.app.goo.gl/DFMvU4t6HDxUGt7k9

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in puffs and plumes

the world recedes

in Tupperware

inching its way back

back of the fridge, briefly

cool microclimate,

cosm where I rest

before the new year

gently washing time

borne away from knowing

we flourish

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now the air changed

in southern Ontario

teaching remotely

living distantly in those

early days that were warmer

newness a beam

that rolls over each patch

of the lazy, bee filled, weedy meadow

Photo by my old man.

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give me the scattered backdrop of all bad art

to set a star,

I’ll frame myself on the fridge door

space for seven year dogs

between the newness and wist

the doing, the making, the quote unquoted

“It”

singapore, re homing

family stretch

love, and snails, and rest

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I see you, smooth pebble

windy in your nest above the green

carried past even the mountain crags

wobbling in thin air

cold stone peak

before the gale changes

tumble to join the sand

be again the forest floor

all around me

—

A smooth pebble now

once I was a rough rock

tumbled by eons of floods and ice

down many streams till I was smooth

and small. I wait now

for the flood that will take me to the sea.

Photo by my old man.

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ritual for woodblock and water

singing bowl from the nighttime

tapping, tension

https://soundcloud.app.goo.gl/CsCApaicU4tZJaCm7

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the lychee moon

hung over the arc

of (my) life since leaving

splits on the tooth

breaks unevenly

seed from flesh

sometimes you have to

spill the basket out and start

over with loonar new years

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pass time that will pass

stop train before stop

a little sad we can’t really talk

that we can’t possess feels

or bodies, or even hands resting

on thighs, patient, before more words

memory, regret—

the longing of things past

in gently disquiet healing

[clayhats]

I was mostly here in high school for the poetry and then forgot tumblr and actually ended up doing my undergrad in poetry. Now im broke and in a phd and not really working much but so im back to post the backlog of ‘natural fiction’ and read y’alls stuff

[clayhats]

so luminous nothing sticks

on my face, my sun season

spread out to fill new spaces

my body hid during nighttime

plum trees grew

juice streams down

~

I used to be abstract interactions and im back a little I guess, if anyone is still around?

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I recorded most of my latest album using this instrument. The guitar has a Palmer preamp connected to a speaker under the radiator. Frequencies from the speaker create sympathetic vibrations on the guitar strings in a highly resonant kind of feedback loop. A range of melodic and percussive sounds can be created using pliers, tooth brushes, slides, face brushes, knives, and picks on the guitar and radiator. As other instruments, like voice and saxophone, are played, their resonances are picked up in the feedback loop as well creating a room filling glow. Go listen to “The Evolution of Sound in the World” and hear what it sounds like. https://soundcloud.com/thaddeus-cochrane/the-evolution-of-sound-in-the-world (en Graz, Austria)

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I'll be posting regularly again. Stay tuned for more.

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https://soundcloud.com/thaddeus-cochrane/red-admirable

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https://soundcloud.com/thaddeus-cochrane/ocean-bells