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LaDonna Smith

Oct 28
Love0

Brief Report of Jeonju International Sori Festival, Sept. 28-Oct. 2, 2016

By LaDonna Smith, Uncategorized No Comments

Reflecting on the trip to Korea with International Society of Improvised Music (ISIM)

By LaDonna Smith

I realize the amazing surreality of leaving Alabama to go forward in time by going West to go East, to realize a skip of clearly a day, ahead to another day and finding myself as darkness fell in Seoul, Korea where traffic rushes like a hive of ants, constant moving, weaving or stagnated, meticulously working one’s way from one place to the other, headlights lining ribbons in strings like beaded holiday lights, multilayered and strung by the thousand millions over moving wheels, carrying humans to places far, near, or nowhere. Stunning grid of multilayered bridges transporting streams of moving vehicles beyond into the black night. Hours later arriving in the black night on street corner anonymous, for who could read the signs, to walk in which direction, leading into the gleaming pitch resonance of a rainy night. A group of umbrellas moved in mass just across the four lane street with median.
Hailing a cab, driver with iphone for GPS, winding around in the night to find a hotel, nowhere, unheard of, hidden and obscure. Ofcourse, we could not have walked, even though we were told it was only 10 minutes away. Who knew the front entrance would not be a door?

  • isim-4
  • korean-drums
  • la-jin-ed-at-radio-jeonju
Exploring into a parking deck laced & adorned with bizarre ropes hanging partially down over the opening, we stooped under to go inward, the building swallowed the two of us like a whale. Submerged into the dark interior and eventually finding a makeshift lobby, a small concrete hall, a mere counter, coffee pot & elevator to greet weary travelers, or more likely “couples.” Just glad to be somewhere for the night.
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May 03
Love1

The Charge

By Collective writing, Davey Williams, Janice Hathaway, Johnny Williams, LaDonna Smith No Comments

discharging melon seeds to miners
whose eye balls dilate with darkness. Chimpanzee historians
recite stanzas until ting tong tones tell tales of the aftermath of digestive organs
as if there were worms crawling about.
Meanwhile, belts of bells, bullets, boxes…bobby pins, bags…
An excellent debacle ensues
Sancoset series given a name
On the ashes of imagined signs
In the lethargy of firm ropes of “miracle gro”
We sprout hearing buds and exercises of listening.
There are fragments of rose thorns and crystal reflections on your face
You have touched and been touched by the loud chorus of artifact,
a scattered memory with legs and floating in steel.
Random tongues of razors and mortar
Gave a lingering presence like perfum
Leaning towards golf with loose fitted coral balls.

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