Tide in the Breath of the Sea
My first music-compositional improv
“How I Learned to Fly Without Going Fowl”
No, how I learned to describe the
impossible,
How I learned that “ Et, dès lors,
je me suis baigné dans le Poème de la mer…”
Rimbaud
( since then,
I am bathed in the poem of the sea )
I lit a candle and darkened the room,
stood in a chair, closed my eyes,
breathed calmly for a few seconds,
then, blew softly into the saxophone
without engaging the reed or making
any notes on the horn -- just air sounds,
white noise, like waves on the shore.
I added sea gull squeaks and chirps,
and finally, I made thumping drum sounds
with the keys, a thunky, funky kunga
solo.
Shoreline of horn, a sound in mind,
my beach of nights outstretched in
lights,
I became the damp mornings, forever
after.
When the world comes back together
thanks to poetic nights I put in place,
spent minds are mended,
footprints washed clean,
bonfires doused, the tide, calm once
again.
The roar of the world is in charge
again,
but, MY job goes out to sea on the tide.
