Volume 27, Number 3

albert ayler

darent look in free-jazz dictionaries, doom i feel wondering if anyones left alive. if i look to see that they are, i doom ’em, next day theyre not. in the pages, i doom ’em, in this, i have guilt. we kill the goodguys, gals, whatever: but we kill ’em. gave up looking in free-jazz dictionaries: felt like doom. albert ayler face down in the east river, aged thirty-four, he’d been missing twenty days. man who birthed witches & devils, who birthed truth is marching in, birthed universal thoughts, missing & no-one gave a. we kkkill the good. how can yu talk ov gods when albert ayler’s face down the east river & kissinger goes untried? claim the contras as modern equivalents ov americas founding fathers when theres murder to the tune ov 40,000 on their hands alone? meanwhile circus rides bare-backed, bare-knuckled out & into history. oh yeah liberty bawls, a tenor-bell, rim & curves ring, alight in darkness, the whole shooting match, anarchy gigs, heavens darkness, new new ways ov swearing in tongues. but i swear what is free? who is free? u.s. : yr thumb in the eye ov international law, refusing to payback sixteen billion for terror-bombing ov corinto. light in darkness & after, ov truth spun to ... & ayler face-down still

—sean burn