outlaw poetry and free jazz network

Wednesday, February 6th, 2008...7:26 pm

tony moffeit | spirits

SPIRITS

calling the ghosts
calling the ghost dance
calling the ghost tongue

speaking in tongues
speaking in ghost tongues
speaking in ghost language

the rain tonight so ecstatic that it turns to snow
the snow tonight so ecstatic that it turns to rain
rain turning to snow, snow turning to rain
even the windshield wipers are confused

john coltrane return and play a love supreme
chet baker return and play my funny valentine
a wild gypsy night of mad love
miles davis return and play sketches of spain

albert ayler return and play spirits

vision vision i can hear voices
spirits my hands my eyes my hands
my eyes float from me
my fingers reach up through water
albert ayler plays his solo
and my eyes open
for that which is called spirit
for that which is hungered for
my eyes my hands hungry
my spirit hungry for
spirits which are hungered for
albert ayler play your solo
the ghosts are dancing tonight

poetry and death and love and poetry and death
a wild gypsy night of mad love
where nothing matters but the body of the soul
and the soul of the body
a wild gypsy night of mad love
poetry and death and love and poetry and death
the poet is born in the ghost of a dance
the poet is born into the mirror of his own breath
the poet is born and the clock
has left its hands in the sand

albert ayler plays for the spirits of the dead
albert ayler plays for the ghosts of the dead
albert ayler’s solo is a ghost ride
albert ayler’s solo dances with
the ghosts of the dead
albert ayler plays and we must slide
into the saddle of the phantom horse
let’s take a ghost ride
albert ayler plays and in playing
talks with the ghosts of the dead

the rule, then what is the rule?
there is no rule

the tongue wrung

mad love understands the chaos
mad love invented the chaos
and the only way to be calm
in the middle of the chaos
is to be madly in love

albert ayler playing at the funeral of john coltrane
little bird they call him
playing on the streets with little walter
albert ayler playing spirits

my eyes float in dreamwater
i want to wear your skin
his solo lives on the edge of everything
i want to taste your blood
it lives on the edge of everything

still locked in the embrace of that moment
can’t seem to get out of the embrace
of that moment

in dream the blood the spirit
his solo soaring
the soul the spirit tongue
his solo diving
the roots the roots
the burning
a place of feeling
a state of being
all dissolving
all returning

albert ayler plays and calls the ghosts
albert ayler plays and calls the ghost dance
albert ayler plays and dances with the ghosts
the mist is in the air from the rain turning to snow
and the snow turning to rain

soaring and diving
soaring and diving
deep into
the roots
spirits spirits spirits
emerge