the sizzling gate hampered by my whimper
and yes maybe the exhibition
was a bit beyond what the night called for, I
hope the morning coddles my contrition
for now there is a rumble that confers
momentum into my left leg and lung
I tumble and am pulled along after
the wooden doll speaks through a swollen tongue
selling you signs of dreams and picture prints
blue paint faded so you can't read the eyes
noises of the market hide any hints
that might clue you in to what this speed buys
seventy percent sends signals of done
I can't believe the speed with which I run
David Helm & Jozef Dumoulin dive into the haunting abyss of improvisational electronics on this harrowing, mysterious record. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 5, 2022