Music tangles tom-tom dark as the rainšs free night percussive pours. The
hiss on the glinting gravel between this house that house, soft bent elegy,
stains the brickwork. And all the dampness had me running exposed, cold as
fish belly and rushed with sky tears, running the voodoo. Clusters of chords
bring a blindness hard to brush off till I passed through the bars and
locks. And the flute leans into the centre, the always wobbly centre, with
its new kind of reverb, but fire and skin cold and the melancholy funk lead
to that same old place, near where the gutter cannot contain the rain, and
it all comes down again.
11.07 pm
Marrickville, Sydney
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Jill Jones
50 Ruby Street
Marrickville NSW 2204
AUSTRALIA
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http://homepages.ihug.com.au/~jpjones
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