Take the scissors to the tape loops from the doctor’s office. Turn the scissors over, then begin to shuffle inside the patient’s mouth. Scraping, probing, guiding the explorer; tapping. Without a lamp and without a mirror, there’s mystery in the tape, functioning somewhere underneath the tongue. A circular thought revolves around a floral pattern sickle. Without a lamp, a vision of a thunderbird with clipped wings is forward, first in line in front of an astral rattlesnake. Both bird and snake are knocked about by the wind of a hawk’s wings. Cheap keys and stray yarn jam the machine. The wind jams the machine. The playback head is red hot and learning to fly.
• Black Thread: https://soundcloud.com/blackthread
• Sifting Through Shards: https://siftingthroughshards.bandcamp.com
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