WINGIN' IT

[Sue Littleton]

There was a laid-back bass fiddle, a saxophone
and a singer, an albino black
with a voice like apple green velvet.
The three of them tossed the melody back and forth
to create some truly funky blues
and coool, low-down jazz.

Included on the program as a star turn
were three folk musicians from a distant Mexican state;
shirtless, their smooth brown chests
hung with necklaces of jaguar claws and seed pods,
straight jet hair hanging to their shoulders,
they played a series of unusual indigenous instruments
that included goat-hoof rattles,
deer antlers and a stick,
hollow gourds filled with pebbles,
a bamboo flute,
a small round leather-headed drum.

The two sets of musicians didn't have much
to say to each other;
there was the language barrier, of course,
and a certain lack of melodic synonymity . . .
The shows ended.
A few of us were left hanging around;
it was about one in the A.M.
and the jazz guys started improvising.

The Mexicans had had a few beers;
they weren't ready to leave either.
They put on their shirts and,
as the jazz players warmed up,
crossed the room
to join the show with deer antlers and rattles and gourds
and suddenly -- I mean,
the six of them were playing
the GREATEST New Jazz/Native American music
I'll ever hear.
Ever!

They jammed until nearly three A.M.
and when they finally collapsed,
sweat pouring off their foreheads,
grins like a five- year-old’s Christmas morning
shining on all our faces,
the six men shook hands and congratulated each other
in Spanish and English
and we congratulated them
and like, here was harmony, man,
and if I hadn't been there
I'd never
have believed it.

[joel]

This is NOT critique, but response (and positive at that):

This one was difficult and theatening and jarring in several ways to me--but not ways that made me stop reading or finding myself within it. I follow the story--and I believe it, hear it--but at the same time there's a pit in my stomach from reading...churned up from some foundations of which I'm aware and others that frankly surprise me. I can't honestly say that I like this one...but I had to read it, it pulled me in. It's really good--the kind of good that knows something good even when it's not easy to do so.

It's only because I believe it that I have so much trouble...very odd. But thanks! It's that kind of a piece for me. True thanks!

[Sue Littleton]

Joel, I thank you for your comments.

This one was difficult and theatening and jarring in several ways to me--

...but at the same time there's a pit in my stomach from reading...churned up from some foundations of which I'm aware and others that frankly surprise me.

I don't know why you would have been so perturbed with the story -- this took place in Austin, Texas, at the Mexic-Arte Museum, where I organized poetry readings under the auspices of the City of Austin.

I assisted many functions at the Museum when it was just starting out and at one time acted as Treasurer. (The Director is a young Mexican artist.)

The Mexican musicians who performed that night were proud of who they were and were bringing a part of their heritage and culture to the museum. The jazz players were a well-known and popular group in Austin. We all reached out to each other through the unique music that was created, and although there were not more than six or seven in the audience, it was a terrific experience. Did you feel there was a patronizing tone? "An albino Black" perhaps sounds offensive? Being Black and albino is a strange combination -- but that is the singer's description. I could have added that he was the leader of the group and actually a very handsome man, but that does not really enter the story. He has an incredible voice, which reminded me of "apple green velvet," I can't tell you why.

I do appreciate your positive comments, and thank you, but I would like to alleviate, if I can, the anguish that the poem seemed to have caused you initially. Let's talk about it!

Regards,
Sue

[joel]

Thanks, Sue,

But the thing is: the tension is powerful and part of what attracts me to the writing here. I'm not offended by it, just churned up somehow...and I don't know why. Part of it hit some emotional chord in me...and I appreciate that!

I don't know why it gets me all emotional inside (but I'm kinda a pushover there, crying at country songs and visits to the SPCA and all). I do have some connections to a woman from east Africa who was born with albinism and had her hands cut off for their local medicinal value...and her struggle for independence and safety in a culture where she is thought to be magically powerful while being dreadfully vulnerable...and her story is in me somewhere (my mom's friends hosted her while she wasin the US being fitted for prosthetics...it was covered by one of the national news magazines, but I missed it)...but I don't think that's where my response comes from.

I think it's just good writing, good story telling, poetic strength. What you wrote is something with which I'll come back and wreslte, enjoying it and dealing with the fallout. Good stuff...honestly not critiqueing...just sharing that this was powerful for me. Maybe my first response should have simply been that: an honest "powerful."

[Sue Littleton]

Hey, Joel, I think that you were hit between the eyes by the mention of the "albino Black" -- it brought back the memory of that albino East African woman who had her hands cut off! Of course if you are a sensitive person, and boy, are you! that memory would hurt.

(I understand, I cry for days when one of my cats dies and I just can't go to the SPCA -- I still remember my last visit 14 years ago -- an adorable and doomed half-grown cat reaching out from his cage saying "Take me?" Argggh!) Sure you got churned up, and I did not take your note as a critique, not at all, I just wanted to be sure the poem was not offensive to you.

I do appreciate all the very positive comments you made. I really like the poem, because it is such a wonderful memory for me, and I am glad you could connect to it in a positive way as well ...

Cariños, Kiddo!
Sue♥♥♥

[hester_prynne]

I really like this....you got it right, that sort of mystical moment when the tensions ease, the shoulders drop, the danders wane and the music comes together and your sad you don't have a tape recorder because this could have been the start of something big!
It's a fabulous and rare scene.
You bring it back wonderfully!
H

[mnaz]

the universal language...

[Sue Littleton]

Thank you, Hester and mnaz -- It is wonderful for me to see how you two (and Joel, albeit with certain reservations) could relate to this truly marvelous experience. As you say, Hester, I did not have a tape recorder, but at least I could save the moment in this poem! Music ... the universal language! Affectionately, Sue♥♥♥