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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

© 2024 by Hugh Levick

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