Steve Dalachinsky

doowop groove

chi bot shi bop
wo oh chi bop shi bop
whoa ohhhh
so crowded ya can't go anywhere
why'nt ya go to the cemetery
he says
grandma's there
mom — aunts uncles
friends acquaintances
rich folk & poor
sounds crowded there too
i says
it's up to stairs & down 3
then out the open opera
i only have eyes for you but can't remember
where or when or even the hell you are
peeled & one-stopped
a backyard is after all a backyard
jus'ask yer local pawnbroker
too live too staged
put out pretty petty another time
40 dark pills
lips pursed & waiting
gone badly treated softening rocks
pale cave dwellers piping pink noise
like a bottle of sirens / roost
complaints compliant w/holding floods

did this sky hold high above itself
above our creamed soup
then opening like an eye    un helped
heep upon itself — taxing?
itself by breath & sounds
fast & out of................................
lost inside shi bot shoo bop shooo bot shi bop shooobopshibop.

zeena/phobia (the music of Zeena Parkins)

day 1

this tremendous output from inside
no caca/phon(e)y
institute radical collaborations
sense the sense-say-tions
much continuous energy / motion
there is so much more behind this
power we are hearing
myriads of collective dynamisms
distant sirens blend with &
echo simultaneous evocations
almost too good not to be criminal

let me concentrate on the mastery
rather than dissect it.

intimate distances & frenzy
even when one’s own sound
is lost within the sounds of others
the tension lost within the sonorities
the language barriers blur
within the disruption
the music erupts then melts
as it softens & flows
toward the next faultline’s genesis
this ever-increasing adventure
& risk
totally stoned on commit-
reminder & expectation
renewal & relevance
connection & dissolution
passion in its extreme
but let my mind become the music
rather than letting the music
become my mind.

—— dalachinsky nyc the stone 9/10/19

LACE – the music of Zeena Parkins

day 2 — qt. for the child that’s got its own

i look at my watch / it is 9:11
tonite the date is 9/11
it’s time for the qt. to end as 3 to become
tell ‘em willie boy was is…
lace like for jeremy’s heavy shoes / in 5 movements
she is a child blessed / no less than any other
she is in 5 movements / is the maker of lace
is 6 branches / their leaves artificial
but when they produce wind the room subtly shakes

i am truly left handed
this is evident by the way i write
my wrist in an awkward painful curve
laced / but not quite the memory
i’d like to remember / now all memories hurt
i am waiting to die & be insurrected

he sits silently on the other side of the glass
where i know the music reaches him
the room is on full tilt
the glass looks both ways
man is as man does
woman is… a school for higher learning
who are these gadgets?
blips on a computer screen
recording for posterity
tangible endgames deflected by LACE / drapery
he comes through all his adversities
awaiting signals from the glass
walking on the other side of the room
more than a presence & red lights of traffic’s
movement as eye is glued to camera
movement inside its lens
she allows for space / egg on a table
lines falling where they may
as she untangles the threads the brass creates
moments are defined by each movement
& not the other way around.

— dalachinsky nyc at the stone 9/11/19

Steve Dalachinsky was a poet, jazz journalist, and collage artist. Known for his powerful reading/performances, he was a popular and much beloved fixture on the Downtown scene. He authored numerous books including Where Day Becomes Night from great weather for media. He lived for many years with Yuko Otomo on Spring Street.