betoniniai triušiai

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the concrete bunnies | the group of sound and poetry
God-Thing / Live [2 CD, 2010]

001. marvele hill / 459 seconds
bone festival. pilis i village, panemune castle
21 07 2007

sound: tomas s. butkus, antanas dombrovskij, vadimas korotajevas
performers: tomas s. butkus (voice, percussion),
antanas dombrovskij (electronics), vadimas korotajevas
(electronics, percussion), raminta kurklietyte (sax)

002. awaiting the flood / 240 seconds
bone festival. pilis i village, panemune castle
21 07 2007

sound: tomas s. butkus, antanas dombrovskij, vadimas korotajevas
words: tomas s. butkus (mutation of generated language, 2003)
performers: tomas s. butkus (voice, percussion),
antanas dombrovskij (electronics), vadimas korotajevas (electronics, percussion), raminta kurklietyte (sax)

i’m not a river
in drought, its beds burst out of dikes
flooding roads and roadsides
i am an unrealized gaze
evening flames drown in its valley
crossed by the bridge of the horizon
this gaze solidifies the waters
and from the angle of the belvedere
one hears an echo
each stairway step is meaningful
but not a single day
is ready for it –
to evaporate that liquid and transparence
for which we climbed the spruce
looking into the morning mouth, a cavity

003. when water was vision / 377 seconds
bone festival. pilis i village, panemune castle
21 07 2007

sound: tomas s. butkus, antanas dombrovskij, vadimas korotajevas
words: tomas s. butkus (“aquarium by the river”
retext. lakeland, 1997)
performers: tomas s. butkus (voice, electric guitar),
antanas dombrovskij (electronics), vadimas korotajevas (percussion, voice), raminta kurklietyte (sax),
irina moscinskaja (voice)

we don’t have to wade into the river
to fill our mouths
of blue

blindingly distant
for those times

when water
was vision

(we have to we have to)

of blue blindingly distant for those times
when water was vision

when water was people and birds
and water was all we contained in it

the stars green
the graveyard rust

when water was verse
we didn’t know words

when water was words
we’re unable to read

when the river was high
floating mist

those times and the blue
carries away all our memories
all evaporated terrain

when water was vision
was vision
was

004. big red / 328 seconds
islands of literature. kedainiai, multicultural center
03 08 2007

sound: tomas s. butkus, antanas dombrovskij
words: tomas s. butkus
performers: tomas s. butkus (voice),
antanas dombrovskij (electronics)

extinction tales extinction numbers and services
what will this cucumber say?
the wind is a force
the wind is to blow through the ass

the 9th trolleybus gone
your destiny’s coffin arrived

2 x 2 and 5
without equality signs and description
what does poetry mean?
only extinction of the poetry text
only extinction as if it were final

a blaring live broadcast, mumbling radio
supermarkets’ take me, consume me
today everything’s cheaper
everything save poetry

is cheap as a hose’s skin
having donned it we only pretend
we no longer notice

poetry is eternal
eternity is built poetical
it was never to us inaccessible

the north wind the wind is to blow through the ass
through big love of the word prison
through big santa claus with his big nose
and massive sack

005. in a strawbery field / 570 seconds
vilnius, kultflux
24 09 2008

sound: tomas s. butkus, antanas dombrovskij,
vadimas korotajevas, lina lapelyte
words: tomas s. butkus
performers: tomas s. butkus (voice, percussion),
antanas dombrovskij (electronics), vadimas korotajevas (electronics), lina lapelyte (violin, electronics)

the phoenix doesn’t burn
it falls into the sixth floor
decade
to visit us once more
returning from the idyll
of our nightmares, from this evacuation
age, who knows for what cause
written, for whom
sacrificed, they beat their breasts
filled with wind
fists of water circles
the city’s star-map
with rust and ether
stains
eaten through this land
as what was promised
to someone
is later gifted to the astral tribe
resurfaced from a broken childhood
--- sport shoes five-leafed stars
laurent kabilas and his twin’s
mobutu killers --
the dark side of the moon
the rolling stones, the doors
behind all is a door
and then another, another
still --- the flame of the electric
guitar has jammed in the lp
you left turning for a week
leaving territorial waters
from unconscious –
eternally young eternally last
poet
smashed into his first communion
into his first poem
into his last no mat

006. he makes that which is not / 255 seconds
sound zone. vilnius, the energy and technology museum
07 10 2008

sound: tomas s. butkus, antanas dombrovskij, vadimas korotajevas
words: tomas s. butkus
performers: tomas s. butkus (voice), antanas dombrovskij (electronics), vadimas korotajevas (electronics, percussion)

he makes
he makes that which is not

he makes that which is not
what emerges from mist

scattering ashes
dragging the forest bank along the lake
with the moon

he travels by hot air balloons
filled with the gas
coloured by our blood

he is closer than the world
left now and then
looking into the bonfire – someone’s
light there, it’s going out

he does that which is not
what comes from a blank page
and the love, and death
and home bite

he hears the fearful nearness
of flying creatures
which block my ears

he hears what’s not
which i don’t notice
sitting beyond the grass
eating the hair of strangers

and looking into the bowels of evening, luminous
as something slowly edging in there
(which is not)

007. sequoia snowdrifts / 362 seconds
berlin, tee und kunsthaus tschaikowsky
31 10 2008

sound: tomas s. butkus, antanas dombrovskij, vadimas korotajevas, raminta kurklietyte, luis javier londono
words: tomas s. butkus
performers: tomas s. butkus (voice, acoustic guitar),
antanas dombrovskij (electronics), vadimas korotajevas (electronics, flute), raminta kurklietyte (sax),
luis javier londono (percussion)

and then the night opens its eyes
and the falling snow darkens everything
which sheds light – cranes on towers
burial fields of apartment blocks
faces in the fire of lingering
hearths and is falling and falling
like clouds from the charred forest
burned out cut down sent down
the drain, it filters into soil
to the weary minds to football
fields
falling and falling, disappeared
goals, names, the abyss
white snow wall --
white snow communion --
the white snow seed -- --
--
everyone’s quiet
dumbfounded
only a coyote
poet
only one
who somehow survived
in a great forest
blind and grey
no one knows how high
in the snows of sequoias
falling and falling
no one knows when it will finish
when the night opens its eyes
when it opens its eyes
when we
when
what

008. god-thing / 553 seconds
festival of audiovisual poetry “tarp”. vilnius, club muse
29 11 2008

things are hanging in the air and fading
linking the ground, where the city
is deleting any connection
overwriting the memories
it’s restoring nobody’s forms
caught by the rain and unknown wind
it does nothing, it only expands
growing inside for us underground

things are hanging in the air
and breeding
as if they never were here before
or as if they’d grown out of some sporadic microdream
sneezed out by indigenous races
spit out to the grass
the roots growing from fruits

things are hanging in the air
and we are very close to weightlessness
we are talking over distance, breathing from afar
into self
which exist in entirely different geographic milieus

in the mass of burning phenomena
in the pit of the cold light

in the denouement
of the self-destroyed god-thing

in the mass of burning phenomena
in the pit of the cold light

in the denouement
of the self-destroyed god-thing

009. north island (in the west bank) / 693 seconds
plunge – lithuanian capital of culture 2009.
plunge, the watertower stage
25 07 2009

sound: tomas s. butkus, antanas dombrovskij, vadimas korotajevas
words: tomas s. butkus
performers: tomas s. butkus (voice, electric guitar),
antanas dombrovskij (electronics), vadimas korotajevas
(the winds, percussion)

lead toy soldiers are being poured out
milk-white lead toy soldiers are pouring down
not the steel doves use them to water
our days buried in
unwarm concrete rue-gardens
laid down in the light’s night
heads to the north
faces to the west
bound eyes
stabbed hands

let it be
bluish flames from mount olive
meets them
the anger of the indifferent meets them
and the cruelty of the disillusioned
also thousands of those
engaged in what will be done
by their hands
by their eyes

they will repeat
let it be
bluish lava of the dead sea
fills your heads
let it be your faces and thoughts
you wear
worn out in revenge

and in the west bank
north island will rise

100. pinocchio head (the fire in the spit) / 247 seconds
vilnius, vilnius university theatre hall
30 10 2009

i woke up
as if scraping myself
off the aged paper
as if autumn would echo the fall
of the layering geese
through a lazy
and shorter
than usual age:
lessening i
undecipherable
from verse libre with hands of wormholes
in the burning bushes –
a pinocchio’s head

/ / /

the part of this project was supported by
the culture support foundation of the republic of lithuania

project initiative group:
eurika stogeviciene, ruta virbickaite

project concept and design by
vario burnos | workshop of concepts
www.varioburnos.com

the book is printed on munken lynx paper
text set in orator std

recorded in berlin, kedainiai, pilis i village, plunge
and vilnius in 2007-2009

live recordings and final mastering by
antanas dombrovskij

translations by:
edgaras platelis, jake mb levin (a1-a00),

published by vario burnos / bookshop eureka!
s. daukantas sq. 2/10, vilnius
www.knygynas.biz

number of copies: 580