The East Village

Macgregor Card

from Souvenir Winner for A. G. Rizzoli and A. Skryabin

Scriabinists divide into those preferring odd-numbered sonatas and those favouring the even. The former spell his name Skryabin. Let me say to them. Scriabin! Scriabin! Scriabin! --Faubion Bowers, from a Skryabin record-jacket verso Water is negative acoustics‹it's why no one bothers with water-ballets. "Coral, it prick up the eye," etcetera. Why Debussy was afraid of the rain. So I wanted a sort of cathedral-under-the-sea sound. From that myth of a cathedral-under-the-sea, disengulfed at midnight, offshore of Brittany. --Brian Ferneyhough, on his "Mnemosyne" Growing, growing, growing, waxing, waxing, seldom waning, and yet depicting the vision while staring at a blank wall may never be depicted in this series of overturesŠ Nothing weird about this despite a tone sounding like outer space parlanceŠ that tonal procedure necessary to undertake to reproduce the vision in the materials available to those inhabiting the earth. --Achilles Rizzoli, "architectural transcriber to God" V. YIELD TO TOTAL ELATION Balance a tablet of store-room light on the showup portion of hope. There's a nestegg in my fieldscope named ordinary sight-- to hold that egg is to hold that fluke might play the dorsal fin to vision, every night a lark is born and somehow wešve all to do with it. Say it. Everyone can play errand-boy to sight if anyone can sit still enough to err. These not the starry wilds? And these? "Not those kind of starry wilds," then what? Then huff at the wick of a heavy light, but say "there is no world but that impinges" and I'll respond "the stigmatism on my palm adjusts its aperture to the light." Dear blue-ribbon mother, ray of lambs doth bleat through solid night whose several menial things I can't recall. Introducing an urban horse. A horse whose heart is an architect, and a horse whose name is light. An urban horse will drum up our kathedral out of light. It's been his only way to flick his ligaments at the world and still resemble not being lonely in the world. Now there's no more any longer any reason for feeling lonely. The field is afire and the field is a vision of light.

This is the winning kathedral. No less a pearl, even for an earl. The Palace God is building for that winsome little girl. We are almost tempted to call him sweetheart. The light that made Jesus speak through a sonnet.