"INCIPIENCE”

(Poetic tribute to Miles Davis’ and

John Coltrane’s “So What”)

 

5/19/09

By Larry D. Coleman, Esq.

 

Doom-da-doom-da-doom. Doom.  Duh-dup.  Doom-da-doom-da-doom.  Duh-Doom.  Boop pah doo-dup!

 

Sensate sound.  Slipping, slithering, sliding:  silently, by osmosis, into my soul.

 

On a faint fetal frequency both heard and felt.

 

“So what?” Asks Miles.  “So what?” Asks Trane. 

One trump.  One sax.  One oscillation.

 

Vibrating against the backdrop of an inert microwave cosmology.  Jam. Jah-Jam. Jam. Jah-Jam. Jam. Jah-Jam.  Beep-Bop.

 

Horn blowers are heralds, you know. Blow, blow, blow.  Blow by blow!

A searing sound of the trumpet.  Roiling rhythms from a ram’s horn.

 

Mending, restoring, reviving.  Healing.  It’s medicinal. 

 

Parallel scales and alternative octaves from somewhere beyond, heralding and harkening a new day, a new relationship, a new syncretism.  Work.

 

Transformative wails .   Duh-dup.  Duh-dup.  Faith comes by hearing, by hearing, by hearing.  Ushers all.  Ushers, y’all. 

 

Ushering modalities never heard, possibilities never felt.  Exemplifying infinity’s accessibility. Cool.  Quintessentially cool.  Insouciant.  Near absolute zero in deep space orbiting redolent substrates of consciousness.  Lord help!

 

Duh-dup.  Duh-dup.  Down easy.  Off key, but in key.  Off tune, but in tune.  Off scale, but in scale.  Yet, always on time.  Duh-dup.  Duh-dup.

 

Discordant yet harmonic.  Passing the baton.  Trump t o Sax.  Sax to Trump.  And back again.  Conjuring.  And driving rhythms, like driving rains, cleaning.  Chump-to-chump.

 

Lessons.  Lessons learned long after the teacher is gone. Duh-Dup.  Duh-Dup.  Duh-Dup.  Holler if you hear me! 

 

A legacy of love for us to untangle, decipher, interpret and share, when we become.  When we graduate.  Crystallize.  Incipience made perfect.

 

Doom-da-doom-da-doom. Doom.  Duh-dup.  Doom-da-doom-da-doom.  Duh-Doom.  Duh-Doom-doom-doom!

 

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