Category: Audio Poems

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Inspired by Matthew Shipp’s April 1, 2010 performance in Troy, NY.

Gravity
(for Matthew Shipp)

Matthew has to force his hands
back down to the piano
stop them from floating away
maybe from carrying him away, too

when it’s quiet you can hear the machines
tearing up Green Dolphin Street
they smash through the tarmacadam
down to the cobblestones

but then something goes wrong
some failsafe fails, and the machines
plunge on, grinding
into clay and on into the crust

a rock shelf gives way
there’s a long metallic groan
as the biggest digger spirals down
into the molten core

Matthew stands up from the piano bench
when the crashing subsides, then
he pushes against the piano,
forearms lean and tight,

really putting his back into it
slowly, so slowly you almost
don’t notice it at first,
the piano starts rolling

Matthew is sweating now,
his brow damp, his jaw hard
the narrow end of the piano
hits the crash bar and the door opens

flooding the theater with red light
a few dollops of lava
are already cooling on the remnants
of the pavement outside

Matthew pushes the piano through the door
to the edge of the hole
gets down on his hands and knees
and listens, peering into the pit

when he’s sure it’s time, he rises,
pushes the piano again
until the front wheel
clears the edge of the hole

Matthew plays one final chord
as the keyboard lifts off the ground
then watches as the piano tumbles
end over end into the pit

leaning out over the hole
he follows the piano’s path until it’s out of sight
and it’s only then that Matthew realizes
he’s not quite touching the ground

so he lifts his arms to the sky
and the clouds accept him as he rises
welcoming their returning son
as he breaks the tether of gravity

Listen to this poem using the player above.

This poem is the sixth in a series of pieces inspired by bass clarinetist Thomas Savy’s new CD, French Suite (Plus Loin Music, 2009). This particular poem came from his composition “Ouverture.” You can learn more about Thomas Savy at his MySpace page. I’ll be posting more poems in this series in the coming days. You can also read and listen to the first, second, third, fourth and fifth poems in this series.

toujours l’ouverture

cymbal crown church bell
assembles the faithful
center: two dancers
basso profundo
et Fili et Spriritus Sancti
screech strike rumble
circle ’round the cobblestones
white scarf around the waist
falls to the street as he spins
lightly, lightly now
dip and circle, bob and weave
“trouve moi la mélodie, mon amour”
one then another then another
until the street is clear
and the breeze carries the scarf away

Listen to this poem using the player above.

This poem is the fifth in a series of pieces inspired by bass clarinetist Thomas Savy’s new CD, French Suite (Plus Loin Music, 2009). This particular poem came from his performance of Duke Ellington’s “Come Sunday.” You can learn more about Thomas Savy at his MySpace page. I’ll be posting more poems in this series in the coming days. You can also read and listen to the first, second, third and fourth poems in this series.

worship

come, Sunday
and make of us
believers
through the power
of your melody
and the glory
of the chord

Listen to this poem using the player above.

This poem is the fourth in a series of pieces inspired by bass clarinetist Thomas Savy’s new CD, French Suite (Plus Loin Music, 2009). This particular poem came from his composition “Ballade de Stephen Edward.” You can learn more about Thomas Savy at his MySpace page. I’ll be posting more poems in this series in the coming days. You can also read and listen to the first, second and third poems in this series.

Stephen Edward

writes his cramped
letters in a worn
notebook, sitting
everyday at the
same table, making
his single glass last
sometimes he leans
back, letting the sun
hit him full in the face
at other times he’s
hunched and indrawn
the world shut out
his thoughts swirling
he’s filing reports
for a nonexistent
newspaper, one whose
readers all live in the
same house, between
two ears and exposed
to the rain under
Stephen’s sparse hair
whoosh

Listen to this poem using the player above.

This poem is the third in a series of pieces inspired by bass clarinetist Thomas Savy’s new CD, French Suite (Plus Loin Music, 2009). This particular poem came from his composition “Stones.” You can learn more about Thomas Savy at his MySpace page. I’ll be posting more poems in this series in the coming days. You can also read and listen to the first and second poems in this series.

Stones

like the ones
my grandfather
painted flowers
on, found near
the water
where the pilgrims
landed, stepping
onto the big stone
and calling out
thanks to their god

Listen to this poem using the player above.

This poem is the second in a series of pieces inspired by bass clarinetist Thomas Savy’s new CD, French Suite (Plus Loin Music, 2009). This particular poem came from his composition “My Big Apple.” You can learn more about Thomas Savy at his MySpace page. I’ll be posting more poems in this series in the coming days. You can also read and listen to the first poem in this series.

My Big Apple

every tune about New York
rushes forward this way
even the ballads
the kinetic energy of the city
is just too strong to resist
and before you know it
a laconic melody about
the Hudson has turned
that river into the Mississippi
at flood stage
the skyscrapers floating by
at 45 degrees to the horizon
businessmen doing the
backstroke off the Battery

Listen to this poem using the player above.

This poem is the first in a series of pieces inspired by bass clarinetist Thomas Savy’s new CD, French Suite (Plus Loin Music, 2009). This particular poem came from listening to his performance of John Coltrane’s “Lonnie’s Lament.” You can learn more about Thomas Savy at his MySpace page. I’ll be posting more poems in this series in the coming days.

the bass clarinet

reaches down, scoops
out your intestines
causes your brow
to furrow, your eyes
to narrow then shut

lamentation, an old
fashioned word
from before these sounds
existed, before this
Frenchman was born

John William burned
his lament onto the wax
as he had inscribed it
onto the paper
black ink to red fire