I recently came across this recording of Allen Ginsburg reading his poem "Sunflower Sutra" and thought to set it to this track I had done a about a year ago.  

A proper mix needs to be made when I get back to the studio in Los Angeles that the original backing track was done on :)

Sunflower Sutra
by Allen Ginsburg

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look for the sunset over the box house hills and cry.

Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery.

The only water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves rheumy-eyed and hung-over like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily.

Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--

--I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower, memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem

and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past--

and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--

corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb,

leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,

Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!

The grime was no man's grime but death and human locomotives,

all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial-- modern--all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown--

and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what more could I name, the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs & sphincters of dynamos--all these

entangled in your mummied roots--and you standing before me in the sunset, all your glory in your form!

A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!

How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, while you cursed the heavens of your railroad and your flower soul?

Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?

You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower!

And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!

So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter,

and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul too, and anyone who'll listen,

--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all golden sunflowers inside, blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.

Clovis - Sunflower Sutra

A2 - Herck - Fast Tackle (Master)

Can't Stand (Daniel Bell Edit)

The Anoma tree grows another branch, carrying a pair of succulent offerings written and produced by Ohm Hourani.
"Mi Chica" on Side A dazzles with an organic drum structure that pulls you front and centre, and isn't afraid to toss a couple of licks in if you're not ready for it. Marked by its influential lyrics, this tune is the first step on a guide to an auspicious journey.
The jungle groove on Side B's "Blinded" marries a citizen of jazz with the bluesy sensuality of Montreal-based singer Do Mi. An unforgettable voice that resonates in the field of thought. And where thought ends, music begins.
The record is carried by a vibrant sleeve crafted by the brush of Laucolo. An astute and tranquil portrait is juxtaposed against the flowing imagination of a soul enchanted by the
music.

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Written & Mixed by Ohm Hourani 
Mastered by Rashad Becker [Dubplates & Mastering]
Artwork by : Laucolo
Distributed by : decks.de
Press text : Christopher Sykes 
info@anomarecords.com
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Decks.de

AOA002 - A OHM HOURANI - MI CHICA [SNIPPET][Vinyl Only]

Preesh - Behind You EP

Chrollo-Like you

Trust

cartooon mafia

TWIN PIGS

More Info: https://www.xlr8r.com/news/2017/11/premiere-stream-a-mesmerizing-akufen-remix-of-adam-shelton/

@aku-en

More Info

Premiere: Adam Shelton - Only Now (Akufen Remix)

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Itxzel-dandy jack and the third leg

Recent work using parts from a variety of old projects and a slew of samples from Jonny Greenwood's beautiful classical score for the film 'Phantom Thread'. If you watch the movie you will understand the title...

Bandcamp Link

Clovis - Alma's Tea

Native of Los Angeles, Clovis is one of foremost underground  DJs to emerge from the city. Currently residing in Berlin. Owner of Understory Records. Club Der Visionaere resident.

bookings: 
EU/North Africa/Middle East: simone@origobooking.it
USA/Rest Of The World: clovisdj@gmail.com