Thursday, April 7, 2011

{mal waldron} & {cold horizons}-{ten}

japanese island - mal waldron

atomic energy - mal waldron

it would seem that mal is on the move here at !!crescere!! i hope you'll agree that this is a very good thing. he is fast becoming a new favorite of mine. many thanks to bacoso over at
o.i.r. for this session as well as "reminicent suite" which reaped the beast that is "black forest." i posted that one back in february. on both of these recordings, mal is supported by a full on japanese backing band with no repeats of personnel from one session to the other. this one finds mal working in a trio, and like josh, i do love me a smokin' piano,drum & bass trio. these two tracks will tell you why.

also included in this post is my last {
cold horizon} poem for this season. i have thoroughly enjoyed this experiment and intend to pick it back up sometime early next winter. i hope you've enjoyed it also. this one was written days after the earthquake/tsunami struck japan's coast, and was definitely provoked by it. i had hoped to get it up sooner then this. all the same, enjoy:


among my children on a spring road
our feet gripping the tacky ground
a seeming solidness beneath
they tread back & forth along the periphery
of the snow-cone remains.
i take my thoughtful steps
jagging at puddles
meditating roughly.
they move in the moment
burning like the sun for their stories
living in them
not for their endings
but for their motion
their continuation.
i stop & look on
as they put down a flag
set up camp.

stiff within
this slight breeze
this brilliant sun
these bold tree shadows
this story
am i the tortoise or the hare?
is the world really this fragile?

as a point of reference
or perhaps a diversion
i raise my hands up to the sky
i study the width of the road
rut by rut
trying to imagine what thirteen feet
might mean.
figuring at how a fraction of a second
might count against us.
wondering at God’s angle
on a shift in the axis.

i gesture
& reluctantly we turn back.
i watch them as they watch the water
moving beneath their feet
as they scale the mucky drifts
along the plow scarred tree-line.

my love for them is in each hand.

not because they’re cold
so much as i don’t know what to do with them -
i make fists
and send them down deep
to the limits of the pockets
marching awkwardly in tow
as they story on ahead of me.


1 comment:

  1. Good stuff, man....great tunes....reflective snapshot writing....Thanks for putting it up. And while I have enjoyed the Cold Horizons experiment as well, in my opinion, the prospect of warm weather is worth the price of ending this poetic saga. Until the chill sets in again (may it not come too quickly).....