When I Am Among the Trees

I built the instrument surrounding Parker–two harps with dangling chimes, two organ pipes from an old gutted organ in Philly modified with fans at their base, and two wooden stands holding 3 metal pots and one tray, and all the harps are prepared with putty to affect the strings’ pitch and timbre. I was curious about how it would feel to play from within an instrument, to be surrounded, held, trapped.

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment, and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It's simple,” they say, “and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”