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1.
Mango, ragas Mohannam and Bhupali To peel away - the green skin blushed with red. and reveal the inner ripe pulp - pale golden core of delight the smooth honeyed flesh of our dream body. To sink into that dream body - and taste the days we knew as children who devoured all of the hours when we drank the sun down. Heedless of our sticky hands we feast on the sweet meat surrounding the mango's core, our lips smeared with the shreds of golden flesh that cling
2.
The House in the Woods, raga Charukesi It happened again that night He awoke to find her space empty in the cool moonlight and went to the unlocked door The breadcrumb trail disappeared into the rustling forest At length he slept again And as he drifted off he dreamt of tracing her trail among the trees calling out her name as he walked grinding the bread into the ground In the morning she said, "Dreaming again? My love, you know I will never leave You know / You know that." She touched his cheek and he did know and did believe that everafter they would be happy That night while she slept he went to the unlocked door and placed just outside - a bowl of small white stones gleaming in the moonlight that she might not forget in her haste for the forest.
3.
We Are Controlled, in raag Malkauns We are controlled by what we can not know The obscure cells that blink within the brain The wild dark eye of the wary crow. The tingling seed that lets the child grow Is washed away by generations' rain We are controlled by what we can not know. Mingling lovers sleep, their skin aglow At dawn they hear outside the window pane The cold bleak cough of the patient crow. Soldiers shed their blood upon the snow And stare in fascination at the stain They are controlled by what they dare not know. Old men remember their father's death, and how He stared and moaned but never could explain The long dark flight of the weary crow.. The looking glass is old and now can show The stubborn lines appearing once again We are controlled by what we can not know The wild dark eye of the wary crow.
4.
Mosquito, in raag Madhuvanti She will find her way to that small open spot of your soft skin floating and flouncing through the air like the fluff of wind blown seeds Against her we have only our body hair to make us aware of her approach and the buzz of her whirring wings. She will hover and feint / withdraw then dip to easily escape that inept slap How she can lock down upon you a phlebotomist scrutinizing skin inspector of your pores proboscis pressing the spongy flesh delicate needle probing for blood Somehow she has slipped in to alight and sip her fill of your vital fluid leave you with swollen tender redness vampire ache
5.
In the Yard, ragas Megh and Madhyamavati Denied all day by a dank June rain The setting sun splits the scattered clouds to bathe the yard in sudden light and birdsong silent through all the hours rises from the dripping trees In a cleft of time wonder floods the yard. How suddenly the somber comes undone ravished by radiance from the suspended sun and resounding ragas of warblers and wrens singing from hemlock tops flecked with stippled gold. Then it's gone. Drab descends, the cries subside. This little world of a familiar yard has still its sudden visions all along when I arrived into a time not my time to be plucked from time by trees alight with song.

about

The embellished notes of a raga and the shimmering words of a poem spring from intuition, both often composed on the spot, both often surprising the maker who accepts such surprises as gifts, one from the “raga-deity,” the other from the muse.

When a musician plays or sings a fresh pattern of notes from a raga, the knowledgeable audience responds with voice and gesture. When a poet strings together words in a musical cadence the minds and hearts of listeners too will quicken:

How suddenly the somber comes undone
ravished by radiance from the suspended sun

In our raga poems we strive to evoke the elemental emotions or moods which cannot be described but can be experienced as aesthetic phenomenon, in the reactions and anticipations of our own bodies and minds.

credits

released September 29, 2023

Flute, recitation and poems by Gordon Korstange
Indian slide guitar by Joel 'Veena' Eisenkramer

Produced by Joel Eisenkramer & Vidhi Salla Root Cellar Sound 2023
Recorded 11 November 2022 by Vidhi Salla and Joel Eisenkramer at Root Cellar Sound, Guilford, Vermont USA with one AEA R88 stereo ribbon and a Peluso 2247 for the voice.
Mastered by Tom Hutten, Bionic Mastering, Vermont USA

Special thanks to Vidhi Salla, Matthew Hall, Jeanne Korstange, Wendy Redlinger, Antti Vahteri, Stu Fuchs, Ongtupqa

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Joel Veena Guilford, Vermont

A chance encounter with the 20-stringed Indian slide guitar more than a decade ago in Delhi turned into a life-changing event for Joel. He has since immersed himself in the oral tradition of North Indian classical music, studying with some of the great musicians of India.

A prayer and a process, Joel’s music aims to heal, calm and strengthen.
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