I attended a dinner party last night hosted by a lovely person who I knew would serve some incredible food. I suspected there would be other guests. When you are a master at throwing dinner parties, there will most assuredly be a guest list. So after the initial awkward difficulty of socializing with people I’ve never met, I managed to jump into a conversation or two and expose myself in short bursts.
Those situations are not easy for me probably because I’ve been surrounded my whole life by people who knew me. You can take the boy out of the small town, but you know a rose is a rose is a rose. And yes, while I have done my share of meet and greet and get along to get along during a lifetime of work-a-day public service, I am most comfortable around those I’ve known for a long time (and choose to be with) when I’m not '“on” but just on my own.
Of course they were delightful and interesting folks, and before we knew it night had set in. It was late evening by old-fart standards, after our bedtime, and with a few drinks thrown in, it made this morning’s mid-week five a.m. rise and shine feel a bit like a hangover, slow. It doesn’t take much these days. Just the change in schedule, shuffling the regularity deck, like Seinfeld’s Kramer “missing his time,” that alone without a drop of booze, makes the morning a bit of a squint-eyed slog for us kids.
So, after reading the paper and swilling two cups of coffee, I turn on the CD player and zone into Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue, that new-old modal jazz that changed everything, firmly giving melody the moment and control of the mood. Hung-tired in the morning quiet, it was the perfect groove, feeling a bit out of kilter and kinda blue, so I picked up a pen and rode the tune, writing these words and knowing no words will do. But I listen and I feel which makes me want to share it with you because that's what fuckin' poets do. Peace to you, my friends.
Kinda Blue
*
that comfortable blue
a soothing rainy day
melancholy blue
brushes & bass
low & slow
under Evans soft piano
we stroll into Miles
oh so open solo blue
muted Coltrane too
follows through light
Cannonball riffs
mirror reflections
the Janus face of it
doors open to change
arc the perfect circle
of souls passing
to spin & land
lift off again
forge ahead feeling
in the dark
with hands & heart
we dance inside
the music ourselves
saxophone & trumpet
lead us on
pull us through
but it’s the rhythm
that down beat
beat down
heartbeat rhythm
a blue foundation
for blue toned souls
thoughtfully resting
quietly searching
not sleeping
we are dreaming
a who are you
kinda blue
*
for kurt
You can feel the rhythm of the music if you read it out loud.
After reading this, I had to make sure I had this album on my iPod. Check. Then I listened to it.
Wonderful, as always, Mark!