The Flowcharts of the Tabernacles
I hear Morton Feldmancampfired,
in relaxed attention;
calm pathways of thought
in a struggle
already decided
from the very beginning
inside a body retrospectively perishable:
silent days
swell calm seas
with schools of fish
and pressurized trenches
I see Feldman’s chamber pieces
as airy sketches
beneath open skies;
every small alteration noted
in glass,
every gust of wind
the birth of a ship;
every drownage
a sea’s certificate,
an ocean’s truth,
and out in the remote indications
of the slowest scores;
luminous celestial bodies in hovering time,
where Feldman calligraphs
the flowcharts of the tabernacles
in Zen-Japanese
I hear Feldman best barefoot
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
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Written on 2026-05-19 at 18:40
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