" sing a song "

---

erratic movements, loud clanks and reverb in the darkness. green laser-beams and red pinhole lights sway and jerk in moments along the walls of a certain spastic geometry.

we are raucous chaotic vibration. snacks and alcohol strewn about the table. tomes of songs with the remote wrapped in plastic. tambourines & jodeci/mariah dreams. the microphone has a safety health cover on it "just in case," but just in case of what?

it's 7pm, 8pm, midnight, 1am. the night becomes a beautiful blur. this is cheaper than therapy; it is my therapy. this is my release; i am free. elvis looks on from a static portrait. he blesses us with his immortal crooked smile. the night goes from young to endless, and we ride the tunes raw until we are asked to leave.

this is poetry in motion.

---

—- 
 joyful raucous screaming and shrieks and laughter and cooing are heard with crystalline clarity as they travel the invisible line of brain-reaction-throat-mouth-tongue-teeth-lips-air-ear-brain-body-soul-ether. 
 brilliant lights gleam through pinholes in a rainbow of motorized beams, flickering and flitting past our closed eyelids. 
 there is nothing like this. there are many things like this. 
 each moment is pure trajectory from weighted to anti-gravitational. our songs are heard, our spirits soar, and each one of us has a private delight made public. 
 —-

—-

joyful raucous screaming and shrieks and laughter and cooing are heard with crystalline clarity as they travel the invisible line of brain-reaction-throat-mouth-tongue-teeth-lips-air-ear-brain-body-soul-ether.

brilliant lights gleam through pinholes in a rainbow of motorized beams, flickering and flitting past our closed eyelids.

there is nothing like this. there are many things like this.

each moment is pure trajectory from weighted to anti-gravitational. our songs are heard, our spirits soar, and each one of us has a private delight made public.

—-