Written in 2007 and revised in 2020 the Panic Duo--Nic Gerpe and Pasha Tseitlin--magnificently premiered the piece in March at Ian Dicke's Outpost Series in Los Angeles. At the time I wrote it--and this has only been confirmed as the years have passed--I realized I was being forced to say goodbye--as being-in-the-world-- to much that I had hoped for.Around that time I also wrote this poem: The Dark One I woke I sang I saw us bow Before the dark one Wishing reality Would end The tariffs of principle The unbowed joy of love Were eviscerating us We were a new kind Of heathen sending trains Of dead innocents back To their waiting families We had surrendered Convinced that ‘free’ Was more than a word We made our t-shirts, Our cars, our bowls And brushes into weapons We fought to stay blind We twisted the earth Into a crowbar and jacked The universe off our backs We tried to celebrate With extravagant diseases A booming market and leisurely Affairs but the harpoons of disgust Made us weep We started hoarding And taught savagery To the young Never before had prosperity Been so widespread Yet in dry riverbeds People fought Over human flesh I woke I sang I saw us bow down Before the Dark One He heard me, opened doors For me, encouraged me to sing on Knowing full well that the ways Were lost And lost even were the words That had named them

A study of history reveals that a society can be in ruins before the ruins appear.

THE AFTERWORLD For speaking solo percussionist It is over But it has not ended Sometimes it seems the same In the residue 6/8 in the left hand 4/4 in the right or I can play 5/4 With my right hand 7/8 with my left Permatemps on trial That's 5/4 in the right hand  Scum at the top 7/8 in the left 5/16 on the bass drum Is the grave of reality  Map my blood More and more minutes Are shorter Chaos in abundance Separating from the universe To rent a small room In the code? OK so 5/4 in my right hand 7/8 in my left and 5/16 on the bass drum This is the story of a refugee He lives at home You know It doesn’t matter That you know People are dying Of immunity Words have gone missing The letter ‘p’ Wa abandoned ‘R’ will be The next to go There are no more commas In the residue Laughter Seems to end abruptly As if it’s been Badly recorded Then you realize You’ve been waiting In line For 2 years And nothing has lasted Long enough To make a world If I could play 5 rhythms at once astonishment caring beauty celebration awakening But I don’t think I’ll get there Though I practice daily an earnest and enthusiastic engagement with illusions A screen  life Flickers Language maiming reality How else can I say it If it were any louder You wouldn’t hear it I didn’t even dare think That SHE was the ONE! (phone rings) Excuse me (phone)No, I know You said Not to call you. I didn’t mean To call you Especially now I’m playing a solo Concert On stage in front of An audience I have 4 rhythms Going at once Why on earth Would I call you now? No, I never said You were my 9/8 9/8 is what it feels like to be starving You came to my mind And you were called It just happened. The technology is beyond me It gets more and more crowded  as things get further  And further apart  Are you still there I can’t hear you Can you hear me Hello Hello How many 5 sixteens  Can you play How many 3 eights 7 fours? I hit shake pound and scrape Like a first responder  But beats abandon the measure  Everything  built by ghosts Words  stop halfway  between the speaker and the listener is not listening anyway She's swimming in pictures In Pictures of the river She snaps a selfie  Where The bridge ends Halfway across the flood Of burning water  But suddenly you notice There are no more hyphens Apart from that And an almost Imperceptible change In the color Of apples Everything seems the same But what’s the point? Sleep Or resist There are no more Question marks It is over But it has not ended This is life In the Afterworld