Call
music & text: Masatora Goya
お～い [pronounced, “Oi”]
Coyote Song
music: Marion Bauer | text: John Reed
A-oo, my brothers, the moon is red,
And the antelope starts from his prairie bed —
Then join ye again in the ancient threne
For the day that’s dead,
And the hunt that’s fled
And the terror of things unseen!
Afar, afar on the starlit plain
Our fathers howled where the deer had lain,
And hung on the flanks of the bison run —
For the bull that fell
In the wild pell-mell
Had died ere the night was done!
No more the warrior rides his raids,
And the hunting-star of the prairie fades;
While a fiery comet tears the night,
With a crimson streak,
And a demon shriek,
All ablaze with the white man’s light!
But oft when the winter winds are high,
We hear on the prairie the bellowed cry
And the rumbling hoofs of the bison run —
But we seek in vain
Through the empty plain,
For the buffalo days are done. . . .
A-oo, my brothers, the stars are red,
And the lean coyote must mourn unfed.
Come join ye again in the ancient croon —
For the dawn is gray
And another day
Has faded the red, red moon…
A Parable: A Blade of Grass
music: Marion Bauer | text: Stephen Crane
In heaven,
Some little blades of grass
Stood before God.
“What did you do?”
Then all save one of the little blades
Began eagerly to relate
The merits of their lives.
This one stayed a small way behind,
Ashamed.
Presently, God said,
“And what did you do?”
The little blade answered, “Oh my Lord,
Memory is bitter to me,
For, if I did good deeds,
I know not of them.”
Then God, in all His splendor,
Arose from His throne.
“Oh, best little blade of grass!” He said.
Only of Thee and Me
music: Marion Bauer | text: Louis Untermeyer
Only of thee and me the night wind sings,
Only of us the sailors speak at sea,
The earth is filled with wondered whisperings
Only of thee and me.
Only of thee and me the breakers chant,
Only of us the stir in bush and tree;
The rain and sunshine tell the eager plant
Only of thee and me.
Only of thee and me, till all shall fade;
Only of us the whole world’s thoughts can be —
For we are Love, and God Himself is made
Only of thee and me.
Gitchee Gumee
music: Jonathan David | text: Daniel Neer
i. Song of the Father
He was born on Easter while I was out on a bulker
Headed towards Taconite Harbor.
The cook baked a cake when he heard the news,
And the boys filled the galley with beer and cigars,
Making toasts with old stories and jokes.
He was restless and headstrong from boyhood on up,
But the gig on the Fitz gave him peace.
He loved a life on the Lakes…chip off the old block.
They say it broke in two when it went down,
Just off Whitefish Bay.
The Witch of November swallowed up my boy
In waves forty feet high.
We heard about it on the six o’clock news:
November tenth, Nineteen-Seventy Five.
ii. Song of the Crewman
November gales of green-foam swell, churning up my past,
A hungry wind claws at my soul, deafening to the last,
My nemesis, this icy-bitch, numbs fast the pain of death,
As memories play across my mind, a chapter with each breath,
This steel ship twists around my life, until a calm awakes,
And then I’m under, joining the Great Lakes.
Sixteen years old Dad taught me how to shave,Bought me a razor and a can of Barbasol.
Bragged to his buddies down on the docks,
Said he’d make a man out of me.
See my face, full of foam, bathroom mirror:
Now is the time I become a man.
Nineteen, joined the Corps, Semper Fi,
Fresh meat off the bus. Camp LeJeune,
Sweaty hot restlessyouth melting in the sun.
Uncle Sam said he’d make a man out of me.
See my face, lean and strong, Sergeants shades:
Now is the time I learn to fight.
Twenty-two, home from Korea, met the love of my life,
Stunned at first sight by an angels loving smile.
Future clear, loving wife, house full of kids,
Whispered in my ear she’d make a man out of me.
See my soul reflected in heaven-blue eyes:
Now is the time I learn to love.
Thirty-eight, laid-off – so I joined the Lakes.
Trained as a Deck Hand like my Dad and Granddad,
Topside work, winches locked, cargo hold of taconite,
Captain said the Fitz would make a man out of me.
See my work polished bright, shiny brass bell:
Now is the time I learn to sail.
Forty-three, holding tight, white-knuckled shock,
Ankle deep, flick’ring light, ship breaking up,
Listing hard, howling fear, rivets popping loose,
Gitchee Gumee shrieks she’ll make a man out of me.
See the truth staring back, shipmates face:
Now is the time I learn to die.
November gales of green-foam swell, churning up my past.
A hungry wind claws at my soul, deafening to the last.
This steel ship twists around my life, until a calm awakes,
And then I’m under, joining the Great Lakes.
iii. Song of the Son
They raised the bell on the Fourth of July.
The corroded sun-kissed relic broke the surface
Of Superior’s green-blue bubbly.
It’s first brilliant clanging shocked all of us
On this most sacred place.
With crystal insistence it rang,
Again and again,
Free from its twenty-year grave,
Triumphant in its resurrection.
And mom, gripping my arm
With nervous vindication,
Wiped away a breeze-swept tear
From her crow-footed squint,
Feeling the hole in her heart,
Twenty years wide,
Heal with each clarion ring.
My father used to polish that bell.
Green (Green)
music: Gabriel Fauré | text: Paul Verlaine
Here are fruits, flowers, leaves and branches…
And here is my heart, which beats only for you…
Do not tear it with your two white hands,
And may the humble present be sweet in your beautiful eyes!
I arrive, still covered with dew,
Which the morning wind freezes on my forehead.
Permit my weariness, resting at your feet,
To dream of dear moments that will relax it.
Let my head recline on your youthful bosom,
My head still ringing with your last kisses,
Let it calm down after the kind storm,
And let me sleep a while, since you are resting.
Clair de lune (Moonlight)
music: Gabriel Fauré | text: Paul Verlaine
Your soul is a chosen landscape charmed by masquers and bergamasks
Playing the lute and dancing and almost sad beneath their fantastic disguises!
Even while singing, in a minor key, of victorious love and an easy existence,
They do not seem to believe in their happiness, and their song mingles with the moonlight!
With the calm moonlight, sad and beautiful, which makes the birds dream in the trees
And the fountains sob with ecstacy, the great slender fountains among the marble statues!
Prison (Prison)
music: Gabriel Fauré | text: Paul Verlaine
The sky above the roof is so blue, so calm;
A tree above the roof waves its branches.
The bell in the sky that is seen softly rings;
A bird on the tree that is seen sings its lament.
My God, my God, life is out there, simple and tranquil!
That peaceful sound comes from the city.
What have you done, you there, crying endlessly,
Say, what have you done, you there, with your youth?
Mandoline (Mandolin)
music: Gabriel Fauré | text: Paul Verlaine
The serenaders and the beauties who listen
Exchange trivial conversations beneath the singing boughs.
There is Thyrsis and Amyntas and the eternal Clytander,
And there is Damis, who for many a heartless woman wrote many a tender verse.
Their short silk jackets, their long dresses with trains,
Their elegance, their joy, and their soft blue shadows whirl about
In the ecstasy of a pink and gray moon,
And the mandolin chatters amid the shudders of the breeze.
En Sourdine (Muted)
music: Gabriel Fauré | text: Paul Verlaine
Calm in the half-daylight that the high branches create,
Let us thoroughly steep our love in this deep silence.
Let us mingle our souls, our hearts and our enraptured senses
Amid the vague languors of the pines and the arbutus.
Half-close your eyes, cross your arms on your breast,
And from your sleeping heart drive away all purpose forever.
Let us abandon ourselves to the rocking and gentle breeze
That comes and at your feet wrinkles the waves of the auburn lawns.
And when, solemnly, the evening falls from the black oaks,
The voice of our despair, the nightingale, will sing.
After All
music & text: Masatora Goya
もう [pronounced, “Maw-oh”]