Laura Moriarty


Dreams a rule
Words not mine
Not a body of beliefs
Melancholic dusty waltzes
But a knowledge of techniques
Technique of knowledge
Imagination overcome
Beautiful nightmare
Opposed to genius
Letters not addressed suggest
New sound or new personality
Deathsick moon
While remaining virtually unperformed
Arousing resistance
Every innovation destroys
What it produces
The bonds of a by-gone esthetic
Floated into the non tonal
Speech becomes music
With no other aim than comprehensibility
Blacks the sun
Textures rent by incompatible elements
Speech versus music
“I feel the air from another planet”
Not a technique but a passing phase
Uncataloged dissonance
Pierrot lunaire
Growing up with the same influences
Emotional revolution
Or a different place and time with the same mind
Having abandoned tonality
We create language not style
With an almost somnambulist sense
Bravely to plunge
“Free” composition and sublime banality
The green horizon
Makes the past accessible to the new feeling
Laughs, spits, hisses, makes animal cries
Maid of the sky
Complains if you do this you are not “free”
To do that
A new geological formation
Serial universe
Obvious musicality
Or universes
Remix ensemble
Not a single thing
Or will be