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Sons of Friction

Credo Epochula (1987)

Flagg Falling (1988) 

And the Morning Turned to Shine (1984)

Hexagon Lake (1985)

Credo Urbana (1988-89)

 The italicized text in Credo Epochula was taken from the Joyce Cary novel Herself Surprised

Except where specifically noted, all tracks composed, performed, and produced by Frederick Moore.

Voices: Haruna Aoki and Elizabeth Saunders                                                                         

Love is my name./ On death I stand.

Within the woven void a beam of light exposed the fallen form and closing eyes./ Through the opening stream we perceived the joy and pain,/ Clearly and achievement too plain for us./ But still we counted them./ Amen, they counted,/ If only for a moment to share their breath and we were gone.

I sleep in this joy, Do not disturb me with admiration./ Chain me or I shall eat the earth bare./ I am death, from life I grow,/ Maids take my seed and bare./ You don't speak my language,/ I can't hear your voice.

They rise to survey their lawns and yards, /To count ten thousand morning suns./ Ten thousand sons! / Do they not loathe their garden walls? /Do they not detest the weakened grasp of emaciated arms?/ But still, to all who share their creed they respond, / "Unbending light will swallow all of us in time,/ A wall of harm will fall on all of us./ Unbending light.

Voices: Haruna Aoki        Tuning Forks and Flutes: Chris Piper

Voices: Jan Abell and Cynthia Stahl

 

The Place: We'd been walking for days when we came upon an area, / Nothing special really, a few trees, a well. / But it was as if we each came up with the same idea at the same time, / And that was that this was the place. / Weshould stop, built, and this would be the place where we would live. / We were here. / As far as we were concerned it was ours /And no one was going to take it away from us.

Will Be Born: Each time my mother coughed/ I'd kick the walls to make her stop and breathe very slowly. / Soon my father'd be upon us. /  I will be born.                                                                                    The worn will dissolve into water, / The daemon, though born, is shred from the earth. / The world will always give water, / The word in the sky is born in the rain. / We will always be water./                                           (For these, these are my very happy days.)

Sons of Friction: These sons of friction, these daughters of fantasy, / An each on born the color of cohesion, / But never so light as the hand that grasps the shoulder. / And they will grow to keep what we have taken.  /With muted songs of resentment they will subdue those who have incurred the spurs of the nation. / Because for these it can never be. / It will never be! / We are angels of light, we are angels of harm, / And this is my gift: / This wall of chastity, / The glare of missing teeth, / The troubled sleep of seething water, / A rusted rain, / Friction laced with fantasy. / These are my happy days.

Megalopolis: From the river staggering come a group of men, / Darker than the grasping hand, / Darker than the rising sky of the desert morning. / They look to their guide. /  With bent shoulders he stands to address them: / "You have been cleansed. / The soluble past has been washed away." / "But where will we go?" they ask. / He turns and points to the megalopolis. / "But what will we do?" / "You will wash their cars, and you will feed their babies while neglecting your own. / You. The troubled sleep of seething water. / And you, the dream daemons, you will heal the wound." / "But for who?" / "Everyone on earth." 

Angel of Light: Angel of Light, though you heed their prayers, / Remember to count the blindfolds hidden in the basements of saints. / Remember to drink the sobering wine of fermented tears as you close the wasted eyes of the young. / Hear the prayers of all, but do not dilute your cup with pity, / And do not weaken the resolve of the righteous, / For they do not know the hand that grasps the shoulder. / They only know you. / Angel of Light, hear their prayers.

A Wall Falls: Soon the father will rejoin us. / Senseless wall against senseless wall, / The smile of missing teeth. / We are stillborn.                                                                                                          A rust-colored rain falls upon the iron gates with crowns of wire mesh. / Like blood-stained thorns they close their eyes and turn away from wall. / They creak with age but still they part like thighs for the city emerging. / They run quickly to the embrace of a misplaced sister. / With spray-paint the children deface the hated structure. / We will be born. / We will be a city of light. / The world will dissolve into water . . .                                            It will never be. We are Angels of Light.