“Saxophone Man”
I.
Van Morrison wailed
(his)
Lips in
To long
White flowers
(blew)
His saxophone
Into the
Electric lungs
Of song
(the)
Rippled feathers
Of echoes
(come)
Alive to talk
(the)
Metal comes alive
To resonate
New notes
(vital)
Dark electric being
(made)
Music for
(these)
Plastic masses
(gave)
Our souls
A chance
To feed
And weep
(until)
He grew tired
Of talking
(when)
He put down
His horn
(ambled)
Into the tongues
(of)
The invisible light
(rear)
Of the stage
II.
“Inspired tonight –
The Moon
Come alive
(living)
Inside the
Mystical tongues
(at)
The bottom mouth
Of his horn”
III.
Van Morrison
At the Masonic
(old)
Town San Francisco
(listened)
To the fog
Horns blow
At dusk
(until)
He answered
(the)
Milky webs
(of)
His own song
(said)
“The healing
Has begun”
(shared)
His stage
In the name
Of grace
(reborn)
In the
True mercy
Of beauty
(the seams)
Of his eyes
(tore)
Open and split
(in)
To soft
Satin pockets
(rivers)
Over-flowed
In velvet
(sparkled);
And again:
His eyes split
At the corners
(revealed)
The true
Heart motive
Of the sun
(the moon)
In her infancy
(splintered)
Into brave embers
(crazy)
Cool orange pools
(mid)
Night across
The holy roads
Of the sky
(drank)
Up the hour
(until)
Echoes shivered
(down)
The thirsty claws
Of our mouths
(shivering)
Down the
Wooden stairs
Of our spines
(crossing)
A long hallway
Of mountains
(and again):
IV.
Blew his saxophone
And sang
(the spit)
Hangs mid-air
In vacant clots
(spittle)
Through the
Holy canyons
Of his lips
In a burst
Of crackles
(and)
The threads
Of words hiss
(saxophone)
Howls at dawn
(came)
In a crash
(rubble)
And bones
(now)
No more
(and thus)
The stars
Were born
(burning)
To drown
(drowning)
In warm pools
Of God’s blood
(this)
Is the core
(electric)
Pure unbridled
(blood)
And meaning
Of the music
(Van)
Morrison at
The Masonic
(old)
Town San Francisco
(blew)
The saxophones
Of dawn
(in)
To this
Perfect shawl
Of moon beams.
by John Aiello
April 3, 2004, San Francisco, California, following Morrison’s performance at The Masonic Auditorium
Electric Review 