TEXTS

I. Jazz

1. why did they all shout

why did they

all shout:

louis

is de

lawd?

 

because

there was something

prophetic

about his trumpeting:

 

to be that right

is to be at one

with the source

of all good

things

 

hit it!

higher

and higher

and higher:

 

to be that high

is to be at one

with the source

of all true

blessings

 

that is why they shouted

when louis hit the

high notes:

they thought

the roof

would open

and the angels

would burst in

 

2. there are not many songs          

there are not many songs

there is only one song

 

the animals lope to it

the fish swim to it

the sun circles to it

the stars rise

the snow falls

the grass grows

 

there is no end to the song and no beginning

the singer may die

but the song is forever

 

truth is the name of the song

and the song is truth.

 

3. Cherubim & Palm-Trees     

for Jean-Louis Kerouac

 

what I want to say

to (jean-louis) is:

if yr really

a jazz writer,

then stop

thinking about

literature

and think

about music.

 

music can speak,

and words played

like music can speak;

but words played like

music are not the same

as words just played

like words.

 

words played

like music

have meaning

as words,

like words

and music,

but not the same

meaning

and not

the same value

as words

just used

like words.

 

words played like

music

are poetic words;

words played like

music

are themselves

a kind of

music.

 

they are fetched

words,

fetched from deep

like rocks

and fish,

not hunted down

like quarry.

 

they are words

to cry,

are lyric words,

words which

hold a feeling.

 

any word

any word at all

can sing,

but some are strange,

as dinosaurs

are funny

when they

fly.

 

what we are talking

about is the kingdom

of heaven:

a jam-session

civilization,

a civilization

of jazz.

 

a culture

of new

and spontaneous

music;

spontaneous

order of

play.

 

a civilization

in which each man’s

songs

and each man’s

dances

are new

spontaneous

his own

individual

(not to be

copied)

yet filled

with grace

and decorum.

 

a jam-session

of the

just

 

where each

is filled

with wonder

for the

other.

 

where all

delight

in the all

and the

Maker

of all.

 

how will this begin,

it will begin

by prayerfully

beginning;

and by a prayerful

beginning,

it is even now

begun.

 

the instruments

are tuned,

the first notes

sounded,

even now

the music

has begun,

 

how many players

does it take for a session?

one, two or ten

as many as can play;

one, two or ten

and all will have

their licks.

 

the tune,

the tune

is always

the same;

the music

is always

different

and new.

 

jazz

doesn’t do

any work

at all,

no work

at all,

just sing.

 

jazz

doesn’t hoe

any fields

or plant

any crop.

 

jazz lies back

to sing its song;

jazz leans forward

to hear the tune;

jazz doesn’t walk

it dances.

 

jazz is made

of sound and flame;

jazz is made of vision

and song.

 

jazz rejoices

in the judgments

of the Lord

and waits for His

epiphanies

 

jazz is for

the outer temple,

for the courts

of the house

of God.

 

II. Praise

4. I want to write a book of praise            

 

I want to write a book of praise, but not use the religious words. That is because they should not be used lightly, and all the words I will be using for a while must be used lightly, set down tentatively.

The holy words hold terror for some, are not respected by others. I will try to talk in little words that people respect and do not fear. They respect them like hammers, they fear them no more than they fear doors or windows.

 

5. The light of the afternoon is on the houses   

 

The light of the afternoon is on the houses

the white houses

wedged in the hill

set in the hillside like slabs of stone

like flats of canvas

like stiff paper.

Only the palm leaves toss and rattle.

Only the palm leaves nod & whisper

in the cool breeze of the afternoon,

And the movement of the palms is like a dance

is like nothing but a

dance

& the laughing speech

of high born ladies.

The palms are feminine.

They are as beautiful as ancient dancers caught upon a vase.

And they sing the song of the afternoon

of the beauty of the sunlight and the wind.

 

6. Psalm      

 

It is you yourself

who urges me

to find you.

 

I believed you

when you spoke.

I believed myself

when I answered.

 

I can’t remember

exactly what you

said

I can’t remember

what I said either

exactly

 

But I remember

that there was a moment of trust—a long,

full moment of trust that passed, that existed

between us.

 

If that is true, I have found you:

you are within me,

urging me to look.

 

I have long desired to find some one to love.

One who would have certain qualities & not

others.

But who could have

awakened

that dream in me

if not you?

 

III. Arc

7. Jerusalem   

 

reading of lovely Jerusalem,

lovely, ruined Jerusalem.

 

we are brought to the port

where the boats in line are

and the high tower on the hill

and the prows starting again

into the mist.

 

for we must seek

by going down,

down into the city

for our song.

deep into the city

for our peace.

for it is there

that peace lies

folded

like a pool.

 

there we shall seek:

it is from there

she’ll flower.

for lovely, ruined Jerusalem

lovely sad Jerusalem

lies furled

under cities of light.

 

for we are only

going down,

only descending

by this song

to where the cities

gleam in the darkness,

or curled like roots

sit waiting

at the undiscovered

pool.

 

what pressure

thrusts us up

as we descend?

 

pressure

of the city’s singing

 

pressure of

the song

she hath withheld.

 

hath long withheld.

 

for none

would hear

her.

 

8. I would stand and watch them       

I would stand and watch them

as they sat at their work.

 

<<what are you doing?>> i’d say.

 

<<we’re mending our nets,>> they’d say.

 

<<mending?>>

 

<<yes. mending our nets.>>

 

<<why must you mend them?>>

 

<<they’re torn. they’ve been broken into.

the night-fish have leapt through them

in the sea. every night they break them;

and every day, we mend.>>

 

9. The Arc

the

arc

 

in

the

sky

 

the

arc

 

of

the

sea

the

arc

of

the

sea

 

the

arc

 

in

the

sky

 

the

arc

 

in

the

sky

 

the

arc

of

the

sea

 

the

arc

 

of

the

sea

 

in

the

sky

 

Robert Lax (1915-2000)

 

All text used with the permission of the Robert Lax Literary Trust and the Robert Lax Archives at St. Bonaventure University.