Jamns.2024.N09

2025-08-31

frog congress

Recorded, mixed & mastered on 07 Sep 2025 by Jim Lemanowicz at Blissville Electro-Magnetic Laboratories of Massapequa. 

Sax, samples, effects.

This original version of "Slop Sink Sings Hip Pop” was submitted as part of Naviar Haiku 609: Revealing In The Dark.

revealing in the dark
the sadness of things
a fisherman's torch

by: Tagami Kikusha

Tagami Kikusha (1753-1826) was a Japanese multi-disciplinary artist and Buddhist nun, mostly known as a poet, painter, calligrapher, and tea practitioner.

Photography/Art - Jim Lemanowicz, 02 Oct 2020, Upper East Side, NYC, USA

Music & art © 2020, 2025 Jim Lemanowicz

For more about the Naviar Haiku Challenge, see www.naviarrecords.com/haiku-music-challenge

Slop Sink Sings Hip Pop (naviarhaiku609)

Solid Trip

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The strings of the night under the moon
A sensitive nightingale touched.
Invisible in time with the surf,
In the bowstring of tight branches.

The night looks with a camel's eye.
It bares the damp foliage.
If only I could finish at once
With this night on the bridge.

On the bridge of the dawn glow
And blazing with hope.
Behind the fire pit from the barn,
Behind the haven of the ignorant.

Let her tulips burn
And not hide in secret places -
Casts of stars, the wound of the universe
In their tender fists.

Let the folds of the night burn,
Where the fireflies have gathered;
The fences of days that have died down;
Wreaths of erased memory.

Let everything that is sweet burn -
I stir up the coals of the night.
All that the heart has tired of -
Ashes to the stars I raise.

And fly after the fireflies
These dark verses.
Up - like night moths,
Weightless and quiet.

Past the dozing archons.
Through the smoking lilac.
Expands the horizons
Beyond the bridge the growing day.

Victor © Sea

Strings of the Night

Like an Angel

A liturgical descent into dust and memory—“Antiquaries” exhumes the ache of forgotten relics, mapping grief as sacred architecture. Bleak Cathedral conjures a sonic reliquary where every echo is a ritual, every silence a tomb. For those who walk the threshold between beauty and ruin.

Bleak Cathedral - Antiquaries

2025-09-17

abandoned tundra

For me, fog conjures up periods of quiet, interrupted by mysterious creaks, drones and transient melodies that appear and the drift away. I used the Instruo Pocket Scion (using my skin and not plants) to trigger midi instruments in Logic. At the forefront is the piano, which I imagined myself plunking away on as the fog obscured the keyboard and my hands. Hence it comes across as hesitant and unsure. 

Jamns.2024.N09

Incertezza Inc.