FIREORGAN, AN INSTALLATION

--after the sound installation by Seattle Composer Trimpin--

Five fiery columns encircle the gallery. Change hue
as this aria built of imagination and surplus metal,

built of Thomas Buckner's recorded baritone,
wobbles at first. The gas flames enclosed

in shimmering Pyrex--these yellow and white scales--
bend and flicker when music, his voice flares,

and rings the gallery with chance harmonies.

Behind us huge tin cans, heated by fire,
pop randomly as the air inside them expands.

It's Trimpin's sleight of hand; the flames,

some engineer's riddle solved: fire, water, and air--
made music, thermodynamics, the light and sound

Trimpin creates with this jubilation of trash parts.

Somewhere in Trimpin's program notes is the understory,
his childhood tale of the mid-winter Carnival week

beside a bonfire in the Black Forest, each boy

holds a hazelnut into the fire until it glows--
then slams it against a log, the starry embers

rocketing upward, spinning over the valley.

The bonfire's green wood crackles like steam
whistles. Hazelnuts sparking, river-song, tree shadow.

Their voices measuring out light. Winter dark,
winter cold dispelled. Trimpin costumes that lure

of the bonfire, metaphysics of childhood wonder

in Buckner's disembodied song, luster and heat
coloring each tarnished copper tube, this swirling

libretto. The eye, ear tricked by aluminum plates,
brass couplings, metal filings, tangles of wire--

such natural sounds--as in the blackness

the blaze once seemed to Trimpin a choir, the boys'
shouts of mischief in his mechanical tribute,

these unlikely filaments, the gas flames
lifting up through once cast off bits & pieces.



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