Charlie Haden spoke to me
with his boom bomb boom
with his monstrous discipline
with his hands tenderly applying
a 100-year-old veneer polish
to his favorite acoustic bass
his daughters, triplets
singing sweetly, bow their heads
at the folk festival where their father barks
"This! This!", beating out the rhythm
on his music stand with a baton
his wit and warmth, wonder and intimacy
chatting, joking, jamming with fellow Missourian Pat Metheny,
with jazz wildmen Keith Jarrett and Paul Motian
he spoke to me
on stage at a jazz festival in Central America
dedicating his final song to the working, fighting
people, battling the dictator of their homeland
Miles Davis telling him he was one crazy MF'er
as he climbed, tall shoulders hunched
from the stage, into the waiting arms
of the military police
Sunday, September 20, 2015
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