1. |
Prelude
03:54
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Prelude
The music of John Coltrane represents the highest
vision & vibration
mode & modulation
soaring sonic syncopation
righteous reverberating realization reached
by the two-legged travelers of this
burning heart of rock screaming blue through the silent void
of space.
The coal train that wakes us in the night, represents the lowest.
Coltrane: the greatest possible good.
The coal train: The greatest ill. The greatest greed.
The greatest deep dark well of our woeful willingness to lie down
and die.
And somewhere between Coltrane & coal train
we stand reaching toward one world or the other.
Reaching toward the future we are choosing
right now. … And now. … And now. …
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2. |
Invocation
02:45
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1) Invocation
Before the Word
Before the Light
Before our desperate invention of the Gods
Before the world whirled in its mad dance
There was the Music
In the infinitely-faceted, poly-phonic song of the multi-verse:
the Music
In the supra-logical, bio-lingual courtship of the cosmos:
the Music
In the resonating drum of the Big Bang
In the birth spasms of Pangaea
In the death throes of the Paleolithic:
the Music
In the waxing and waning of the glaciers
In sunlight drinking dew from an eyelash of grass
In the crow’s prophesying voice:
the Music
In everything, the Music & finally
those who would hear it …
Portals between the infinite & the temporal
We give these doorways names:
Mozart
Black Elk
Bashō
Neruda
Chang Tzu
Van Gogh
&
a horn player from Hamlet, North Carolina called
John William Coltrane
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3. |
The Whistle Sounds
01:23
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2) The Whistle Sounds
There is, of course,
another music
The whistle of a nighttime train –
distant & lonely
as a photo stuck
in the pages of a family Bible leaning
on the shelves of a secondhand store
A whistle that once sang of freedom
now murmurs death
that once emulated the frets of Woody Guthrie’s guitar
now mimics white crosses planted
in endless rows
But really,
it’s time we stop romanticizing the rails
If you want to know
what a train whistle sounds like
Ask the Lakota
Ask the buffalo
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4. |
Railroad Doves
04:17
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3) Railroad Doves
One could do worse than spend the day
watching them: not quite rock
doves & not quite pigeons, evolving
along the tracks feeding
with each passing grain train
amber in prairie sunlight
The grain is long since gone &
it may be some genetic memory
keeps them clustering on these piles
of deathstone filling
the long line of the coal train
cutting our town in half
The wheeze of airbrakes powering
slap of wings like an eight of
spades in the spokes of a bicycle
& the squealing departure begins
casting off the birds & taking the poison
dust to the next town
The wind brings the stench of coal
I take it into my lungs, knock a few seconds
off the end of my life, breathe out
& in again … out & in again
The Railroad Doves gather & swirl
to a nearby rooftop, await the next train
Late tonight a dragon will swallow
the moon heedless
of the greed that swallows the world
one train at a time &
one could do worse
than to watch the doves
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5. |
Carbon
02:20
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4) Carbon
Driving late night through the pass
with narcoleptic mountains pressing in
from either side & Coltrane struggling
through the static of the radio while
whitebark pines are dead & dying right
outside my window & pelicans & sea
turtles are dead & dying, still, in
the black waters of the Gulf & Éliane
Parenteau, age 93, Alyssa Charest Bégnoche,
age 4, & 45 others dead along the
tracks in Lac-Mégantic but then the radio
clears & a horn sounds out pure as fire
For a moment any future is possible
Until I realize the passenger door is
ajar & the noise & smell of the wind
writhing through the breech become a
presence seated next to me & when, by
degrees this presence becomes palpable
enough to see from the corner of my
eye I speed up & say,
“I knew you’d have dark hair.”
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6. |
Ghost Town
01:18
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5) Ghost Town
They dug for the bones of the earth
clinging to darkness
Meanwhile people built homes, raised kids & corn
The ore-filled railcars daily rolling east
spreading the darkness
Meanwhile some people died, some were born
The big shovels scraped – came up empty
holding only darkness
Meanwhile the people stood with hands outstretched
Looking for a glimpse of what was promised
finding only the darkness
of yet another American dream
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7. |
Communion
02:27
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6) Communion
“All a musician can do
is to get closer to the sources of nature,
and so feel that he is in communion
with the natural laws.”
– John Coltrane
spoke these words, 1962
the same year Eichmann’s ashes are scattered
on the Mediterranean to be absorbed by plankton
which is eaten by crustaceans,
climbing up the food chain to eventually become
the fish eaten by millions during Passover Seders &
300 people die in Germany’s largest coal mine explosion &
in Pennsylvania, a coal fire begins burning,
decimates two towns & will continue burning
for 250 more years & Bob Dylan
first sings “A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall”
& 55 years later
I sit outside this bar
in a brief respite between coal trains
listening to the sparrows
discuss a coming storm
the aspens of the courtyard
sighing their thirst, soon to be sated
All any of us can do
(as the first rain drops fall)
is to get closer to the sources of nature
(as the birds fall silent)
& so feel we are in communion
w/ the natural laws
(even though what I first take for thunder
is instead the next coal train
rounding the bend)
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8. |
Arundo donax
04:20
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7) Arundo donax
Descending from somewhere far above
pleading, demanding attention
demanding grace, filling our ears &
the clay bowls of our cracked souls
each cell of our floating animal bodies
hovering between worlds, between decisions –
A horn crying in the wilderness
“sheets of sound” for the lost & found
that wall-crashing horn, &
not one stone is left standing
upon another
To be devastated by love
Is the most powerful we can become
& then flowering trees splitting rock
clinging to earth & reaching for sky
we try to rise w/ ascending notes
to borrow wings that sing
above the waters of the marsh
where the reed grows: Arundo donax,
the Giant Cane
swaying in the autumn-brass light
holding the music tight through
the cold night of sorrow
knowing that a tomorrow will come
when we must choose
the feast
or the crumbs
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9. |
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Coda: Learning to Listen
(for Faruq)
“Listen to the reed
and how it tells a tale,
complaining of separation”
–from Mathnawi by Rumi
translated by Faruq Z. Bey (1942 – 2012)*
With dusk descending on Marcus Garvey Park
suffused w/ the tones and stones of Harlem
surrounded suddenly from within
by your music
Having heard the news just before boarding a plane
Having heard the news that your sax was in its case
the case closed and latched
Having heard
the news
Shoulders of buildings rise to meet the song
I hear it in the yowls & laughter of playground children
I hear it in the poetry of evening birds
unseen in every tree
We are a million fragmented souls
separated from Source
but the reed calls out for reunion
The truth that I squeeze in my hand
and thrust into a pocket
is that I’ll never again hear you play –
the vibration emanating directly from your breath,
through your horn & the prismatic air,
to my ear, a nest of tongues that imitate each wave
And the question:
Have I yet learned to really listen?
or have I been letting sounds
merely bounce off my surfaces
like an ice-bound lake
like a window shuttered against the light
like a drum head without its resonating tree-body
that’s needed to take the sound deep
to tell the story to itself again & again & again
until, shattering the container of self,
echoes it into the world?
Listen:
_______________________________________________________________
*Ashirai Pattern. Faruq Z. Bey w/ the Northwoods Improvisers. Entropy Stereo Recordings, 2002. (northwoodsimprovisers.com, entropystereo.com.)
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Marc Beaudin Livingston, montana
Poetry & spoken word infused with jazz.
“All a musician can do is to get closer to the sources of nature, and so feel that he is in communion with the natural laws.” – John Coltrane
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