The voice, it is not madness October 24, 2015Posted by The Typist in cryptical envelopment, The Journey, The Narrative, The Typist, Toulouse Street.
A melody, a rhythm, the solo that lives inside them. Words as melody and rhythm, the solo that makes a poem. The voice of god in the bell of a mad saxophone. The poem as illuminated gospel. The artist in the corner frantically keeping time, the signature of pencil or charcoal capturing in her imagination the melody of colors to follow from the notes.
Listen. Listen to his tune. Calls it his duty-free gift for the Traveler.
— Rahsaan Roland Kirk, “Theme for the Eulipions”