in the darkness of hour 7

first recording

in the darkness of hour 7 was created in spring of 2019 for New Art / New Music, at the Moody Center for the Arts. the title references a section of a narrative project called neyr-thnetoi, a scene of light falling too soon in a sleepless morning. the work’s revolving sound references yellow light, exhaustion, and alienation.

it was recorded with molly turner (viola) and nathan hsu (cello).

scene from neyr-thnetoi: “spinning is a point of reference”

the sky loomed[1] far[2] above
 
in the darkness of hour 7
      there was nothing but speck[3]s
of yellow/white[4] light dropped
      in shapeless places,
 
because of which Margaret
            (pale with exhaustion 
            as the morning itself)
could see everything[5], and
            it was getting worse. she
      had never had such a feeling
            (not so strong anyway)
      in which all the pieces 
            of her night-long vision
      were bleeding into the skylight
            (the skylight: her eyes).
 
                  but she kept looking up.[6]
 
      there were many things up there,
      she had thought this before
      but somehow it had never made
      sense, now there were so many,
      they were these sluggish, tumbling
      things, falling into infinity[7], eyes


[1] where does this word come from? is it somehow related to loam like soil, or to the thing you spin cotton on, the loom
[2] how are we defining far*?
*depends how you decide which layer is the sky
[3] is it spec? spelling must be relative to something
[4] neither color seemed right
[5] what does this word mean?
[6] [what is up? because the sickening feeling of being weightless, tied to the sky/hung from eternity/falling eternal/her stomach was far below somewhere/none of this seemed like up, god she was falling like rain from one blanket towards the flood and please make it stop now]
[7] we’ve said this before…
half blunted to the space darkness
      and somewhere all was truly falling,
      this she could see[1].
      And it would crash like dust[2], like
      the last leaves of autumn, like
      the sky collapsing all at once—up
 
      Now she was falling, she
      could feel it, nausea is a French word,
      she didn’t remember the Saxon word, but
      god, “up” is not the sky, it’s what her
      stomach wanted to do; she rolled over,
      and that nearly did her in (did her up)
      but she fell[3] into her pillow
      and she cried   until the sun rose
            (she still didn’t know why,
                        everything just
                        seemed like it needed
                              to escape[4]
                  and the only path
                              was her eyes).
 
Margaret didn’t want to dream anymore.
      she wanted to sleep.
      but now the bells had started to ring.
      and the equinox had begun[5].



[1] how far does light travel?
[2] crash like when dust flows horribly skyward then at once coats everything(see 5) in brown
[3] “fell” or “threw herself” or “was thrown”; what word captures all these things?
[4] break out, but in the well of gravity tears fall, so “break down”, and yet there seemed a truly energetic will that called her so much to the surface of her, really it was “up” (but not “break up”?)—maybe “break out” but with an upwardness: the Franconians say escapper gravir “escape gravitate”
[5] Camilla was going to make her go to the hærfesttime festival
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