Two Poems For The Tap
By Richie Marrufo
When I was first learning how to play the saxophone, I had been completely fascinated with the spirit of Jazz. To me, it was an exciting new world of rhythm and creative energy waiting to be explored.
Over the years, I would continue to play the sax, but I would also start to move my pen. When I started to experiment with poetry, I couldn't help but let the rhythm in my head drive the force of my pen so that inked words would draw breath like notes from a horn. At open mic nights, I would read some clumsily jotted poetry alongside improvised rhythms on my beat up saxophone. It wasn't pretty - and quite frankly, pretty reckless. I still had much to learn about craft, but these were my days of creative liberation. Thus began my love affair with the confluence of jazz and writing - something that would lead me to jazz nights at The Tap. Some of the tightest musicians in the city would gather and - for a few hours - create beautiful music. It was the easiest place for me to sit down and write.
In 2014, I was the recipient of EPCC's Adjunct Faculty Achievement Award. Following a wonderful award ceremony, I decided to join a group of friends at The Tap for some drinks and nachos. Over the years, I had been lucky enough to befriend many of the musicians who played all around the city. As fate would have it, I was invited to join the band on stage and share my poetry. I can't say for sure if many performing poets have read their work aloud at The Tap, but being able to do so was a significant moment in my life because I felt I was finally able to be part of the creative cultural tapestry - even if just for a moment - one of the many stories created in Downtown El Paso, TX.
BE-BOP
Give me,
Be -
Bop Jazz,
Nachos from the Tap,
and something to write with.
That's all I'll need
to make it
through the night -
until the next paycheck.
Until then, I'll write
and I'll write
and I'll write
and I'll hooooooooooowl
As the Band
summons the ghost of Charlie Parker
So we can learn how to fly
without wings
and get hooked
on speed.
We don't need
the high life, but
this life.
It's the only one we've ever known.
Drinks with friends. Jukebox Love Songs.
Dancing the night away.
Last Call. Moments Shared.
For Life,
Liberty,
and the pursuit of
Meaningfulness
Windblown World: A Xuco Love Song
Incoherent mumblings
are the
inept incantations
drawn
from the abyss of this pen’s
empty kiss.
I’ve had many poems eaten by the clumsy dance of a backspace button.
You.
Are
my
work
...in progress.
(isn't that all we ever are?)
You
See:
I want to make music.
I want that dark,
smokey…aromatic
tone that legends like
Lester Young, Ben Webster
and Art Lewis
painted their masterpieces in
when there was nothing left
to yearn for -
to culminate -
from meditate -
and
orchestrate
-inky
sonic thumbprints
soaked
in the the
lusty allure of dark corridors and
lightpost-forever-musings-of-stardust-flicker-flame
passageways.
***
5:07 a.m.
The cosmos are crunched.
and Buddha folds over the alarm clock.
Stacks of
what-have-you
nonsensical rumblings
ruminate
on frothy
jazz-licked
rememberings
of
your
familiar after-kiss.
Perhaps this
sensitive heart
is penance
from a past life?
(for) Even a tangential universe
Such as this
Can explode a kiss
Into atomic whiplash.
THIS
is your love song.
-- so when life is bringing you down,
Don't forget that
EverEssentialElementalPresenceInBreath(like)
***
I sling
free-form
be-
bop
impulses
into a Xuco skyline.
sonic smoke signals
that swirl.
and twirl
into the air to become
-- to become
misguided mockingbird melodies
in search of its muze(sic).
You move.
Sand-storm
Re-Bop
Rememberings.
“Cuando yo te vi,
mi corazón bailó!”
There are 10,000 heartbeats in a day,
But the ones that sound like jazz
are for you.