Trumpet Solo
Last night I had a dream
That you had a dream
That I ran out of words
I went down to the beach
Put a trumpet to my lips
And played to the waves
My song was a solo
An improvised solo
An unaccompanied improvised solo
It told them I had a dream
That you had a dream
That I ran out of words
And the waves went on breaking
While a sleek yacht
Sliced through their crests
Towards a different horizon
photo: Robin Boothroyd
I’ve spent the past few days gathering my thoughts about my recent trip to Iceland. I’ll be posting poems and journal entries on The Cold Tap Sings over the coming weeks, so stay tuned.
Let’s start with a poem about the sea meeting the cliffs near Vík í Mýrdal on Iceland’s south coast. The form mimics the effect of waves breaking.
***
The Cliffs Near Vík í Mýrdal
the
the waves
the waves sculpt
the waves sculpt basalt
the waves sculpt basalt columns
the waves sculpt basalt
the waves sculpt
the waves
the
the tides
the tides push
the tides push & pull
the tides pull
the tides
the
the sea
the
the shore
the
the sea
the sea shore
the sea shore sings
the sea shore sings eternally
in the cathedral of the sky
***
More on Iceland here. Check out ‘Fathom’, my suite about the sea, here.
Here’s a recording of the pivotal moment of ‘Fathom‘ where the poem, like a musical piece, reaches the peak of its arch-like structure.
This is an improved version of the poem in the first post about the project that would later become ‘Fathom’, ‘Cross Section‘. Listen to my other recordings on my SoundCloud page here.
The Cold Tap Sings 