ARUNDO presents poems by SUMMER BRENNER & G. P. SKRATZ set for tabla, guitar or sitar by ANDY DINSMOOR. From time to time, they are joined in performance by HAL HUGHES on fiddle &/or ED HOLMES on Playskool Orchestral Augmentor 2000, slapstick, slide whistle, snorkle tube & so on.
Scroll down below to find us rocking out on Summer's "Because The Spirit Moved," Skratz's "Moon Catalog," Summer's "The Professional Stranger," Skratz's "Art & Culture," & finally, Skratz's "History Lesson" (featuring Ed Holmes & Hal Hughes).
BECAUSE THE SPIRIT MOVED
(words by Summer Brenner, tabla setting by Andy Dinsmoor)
Because the spirit moved
She embarrassed everyone with her dancing
Going crazy with the beat
She danced around like a bongo
She cut her hair
When the spirit moved her
She let herself go
Because the spirit moved her
She took care of children for a living
She loved children dumbly
So sweetly some backwoods spirit moved her
And she smiled
She let herself go
Dance like a disgusting lunatic
Because she going crazy
I mean what does that mean
She took to spirits
She got drunk and plowed the moon
She stood up for her spirit
and let it move her
Because the spirit moved her
She took to gathering rags
To collecting piles of small pieces of cloth
To tending her lilies
Spirit comes to many in many ways
Because she was crazy
They sent her away
They arrested her spirit
Because they said it's indecent
To allow to make for confusion
They called her crazy
Especially when she was old
And still dancing
Moved her to believe in spirits
To believe in other worlds
They wanted to shut her down
To turn off those things
They said were out of control
They said crazy
Because she saw
What they couldn't see
All the spirits moving at once
At one great kind of speed
She could have killed somebody with her love
With her beliefs and her spirit
She had a lot of it
She had a lot of it
She was loose
She lay down finally
And let the spirit move her
Let some fine hand move across her body
Let other bodies come through her
Gave birth
Gave milk
And then gave spirit
To the children
For their games
For their childish dances
She saw the spirit reborn
And she blessed the children
And she remembered
The women going crazy
In jails and hospitals
And in marriages
That had lost their spirit
And she just fell down
And then
Because the spirit moved her
She got up again
She got up with more spirit
Fiercer and more determined
Because crazy
She finally didn't care
She finally decided
The love of spirit was more important
Than who thought crazy
Because moved
They so moved
All of us so moved
Let her spirit move in
And eat us all up alive
ART & CULTURE
(words & tanpura by G. P. Skratz, sitar setting by Andy Dinsmoor)
The sun is a blood-red smear on the volcanic ash of the sky; the forest, a burnt-out pipe organ of hollow logs standing around in the haze. A mountain explodes in the distance, another red smear of far-off horror like the invention of television.
In this grim land, Culture is a 90 foot armadillo crawling across the battered terrain, listless as a tank inspecting a nuclear bomb crater. Art is a pterodactyl, red-eyed & snarling, swooping from stump to stump in a hungry halo over Culture, this way & that, eager for some opening, an attack.
Art sails up, hovers in the thick air, then dives to nick Culture's tail. By the time Culture turns its massive head to eye its irritant & show its bone-crushing teeth, Art's gone, a statue on a pole, beyond Culture's reach. Again & again, they do this dance, tiresome as watching a clock. & now, Art goes for the head, for the eyes.
& Culture knows what's coming, not from thought or feeling, but armor's instinct, a stony telepathy of danger. & it starts to roll itself into a hard ball of shell, but it's too late. & Art gouges the face of Culture just below the eye.
& Culture howls, & Art starts to fly away, & Culture bites off one of Art's claws, & Art shrieks & careens, & Culture keeps biting & biting at nothing at all, & Art circles behind & bites out a bit of Culture's tail, & Culture kicks Art against a rock, & Art tries to fly, & Culture is closing in, but Art is too dazed. & Culture draws blood on the wing, & Art again on the face, & they're drinking each other's blood. & it's getting darker & darker, & the night is totally black.
& they both collapse, Art over Culture, quiet as snow on a rock--all the long, healing night.
HISTORY LESSON / An Afternoon with Allen Ginsberg
(words & tanpura by G. P. Skratz, setting by Andy Dinsmoor [sitar],
Ed Holmes [slide whistle], & Hal Hughes [fiddle])
Peter serves tea,
comfrey,
to Allen
& Swamiji & me
as Allen plays
Kerouac's Three
Stooges rant from
Visions of Cody
on cassette deck,
gift from Bob Dylan,
& Peter & the Swaj
gossip on gurus,
& Allen clicks
off the deck, dark
revelations on
Muhktananda, turns
to me, asks,
"Ever been caught
in one of those
mind
traps?"