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I am unravelling like a serpent, tightly coiled.
Summoning the snake of all breath.
I can see the spirits dreaming of you.
You stayed on in minds and in villages of the deluded an en-raged.
It is what the ancients called ataraxia - absence of disturbance.
Immortality on their faces, night at their back.
I remember what it felt like to be roots growing.
To be held by the light
You immortal soma, resurrected in three days.
it’s spores are standing separate, glittering with light
A star plunges down the slope of dreams and into the fire.
Trying to induce a sacred moment, in which time can collapse
We are seeing answers which mean nothing
I have been people other than your daughter
She was from birth entangled in imperial processes, which endowed her with split vision and multiple identities.
The moon has unfolded and burnt a gauze of the skies.
These years (lacking) of alchemy and language
Under a caustic moonlight, in an air of mycelium and saffron roots.
The visible world becomes like a tapestry, blown, and stirred, by winds behind it.
She imagined a magic based upon symphonies,
To look at myself in the eyes of a reindeer - I should have tied yellow ribbons on walnut branches
In the Traumas of memory and the little nauseas of time.
My name is Maata, I am seeking answers, which mean nothing
Summoning the snake of all breath,
Summoning the snake of all breath.
It is what the ancients called ataraxia,
It is what the ancients called ataraxia.
Under a caustic moonlight, in an air of mycelium and saffron roots,
Under a caustic moonlight, in an air of mycelium and saffron roots.
I am unravelling like a serpent,
I am unravelling like a serpent.
We are seeing answers which mean nothing,
We are seeing answers which mean nothing.
Summoning the snake of all breath.
Skin peeling back the dancer from the dance.
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Her broken bones,
Her broken bones,
Broken, broken bones
Broken, broken bones
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Seth Price - Wreckage
06:28
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OUTPUTS London, UK
Collaborations in music and art, curated by Haroon Mirza and Jack Jelfs
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