Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Felino A. Soriano, excerpts from Of this Momentum Song

Ho|ma|ge to Decommissioned Sincerity, image by Daniel Y. Harris 

Of this Momentum Song (fifty-eight)

                          “Creativity is not simply a property of exceptional people but an exceptional property of all people.”
                                                          —Ron Carter        

                               We memorized
                             what Bass did, what
                                  it said against
                                an hour’s interro-
                                    gating hand.  The
                              paradigmatic structure:
                                      an act of delicate
                          diligence: a purposeful
                            confirmation, pulled
                             in secrets the body
                                strands in sectioned
                       pushing from fingers’
                      surname, initiating
                                        birth.  Said
                         of it a smallness of
                        sound.  Heard of it a
                            halved memory
                             located my hand’s
                          touching of italicized
                                            syllables.  To
                     memorize is to act
                   upon the mirror’s
                       constant appearance,
                                           a shine-flash
                   fulcrum of abbreviated
                 sound hears no
                     mention tomorrow
                                     will mis-
                  read.  Bravery is trust
                 in what the tongue
                    unravels through you.  Is
                  an open windowed devoted
                      premise—language hearsay,
               language upended. 
                                  Measuring what
                hears us.  Resting to inward
               all sound, radial,
                 leveled.  Permissive the
               breath is an exalted
                  persuasion.  We’ve
                                    heard it all,
                                             heard what
                                      detonates within

                     the fleeing wing design,
                  momentum of this
                       hour’s fragrant


Of this Momentum Song (fifty-nine)

          To where the sky-whispered
        hangs in the sudden
            blur we warm with eyed
          rhythm: bond going there
            to the bottom of
         its presence.  Night, here
      is a shade lighter
           than when we walk
       the sway of moving
    gradations.  Symptoms
        heal through revelations—
     what forms behavior
    in the winged and throated
       message.  Music re-
     moves me, moves me
                      into what
      fixates on my following,
  my pulse’s compulsive
       invitation to rendition
    as in Lightning’s articulate
               splay and
 untouched, over-
  extended heat up.  Here
is where we read
 these languages,
                these nuanced
  fathoms of predetermined,
 sequenced speech, configured
   memories of what
  meaning is among
                   sections of
     the tongue’s
  unused revelry. 

    Friction warms
  us during Noon’s midday
 sleeping.  Softened with
    extended play virtue.  Record
   sequence, voice clarity
    of this spring’s vocal
  light plum evidence...
                      we travel
   dexterous in what
     happenstance unravels.

          Partitioned sounds
   segregate nouns’ version
      of what portends the
    composite silhouettes.  Two
  are of our conjoined
      ongoing, our


enunciations of why we
  are here, are ongoing

                      positions of

      what enables and stays
  in the stilled interpretation
    of the music’s upward

                               upward frequency of


Of this Momentum Song (nearly-sixty)

         among these bodies
  among the mothers’
          now silent.  Sent
into a type of hiding:
  each face a con-
 figured motive to
     isolate from Light’s
                       mention of
   involved observation 

—Felino A. Soriano