Expanding the Words into Sounds

The site for all of our "Two Poets…" gigs: Counter Culture in Santa Fe.

A year or so ago, I wrote the line: "Jazz always left stains on her mind…"

The other night, I had the opportunity to figure out more fully what that line means.

I read a new poem about illness, death and secrets to a full house at the Two Poets and a Piano gig in Santa Fe. The poem was potent, heavy with sadness. I have only ever heard it as my voice, solo, but from now on, I will associate it with the music that accompanied it.

In rehearsal, I asked to create a conversation, a  call and response with New Mexico's most astounding horn player, Arlen Asher. I proposed reading a line from the poem, and having Arlen play a line in response.

I asked for a deep sound. He chose his baritone sax. That's as far as we got. We never tried it together until the audience was in front of us…

…and the audience was so quiet. I read; Arlen played. Again and again. Line by line by line. The music flowed out of his horn and into me, and my words moved back toward him. Our two forms and sounds came together seamlessly, and the audience stayed quiet.

Arlen and I have both lost necessary people. That's how we knew what to say and how to say it. 

And those words belong with that music. The music that Arlen played has definitely left stains on my mind -- and on that poem.