The Soul and the Sound of the Man with the Dancing Hands
January 23, 2024
By Jim Dunn
From Bass Rocks to
the slippery cliffs of Rafe’s chasm
I hear the resounding
ringing of your Afro Cuban rhythm
It’s the beat
way down to your shoes
It's the beat to keep.
It’s the beattitudes
It's the beat in the heart.
It's being beat and down in the world
It’s the rhythm
The rhythm of your rockin’
and the roll of your soul
The rhythm of the breeze
The roll of the sea
The rhythm of the rhyming sirens of the rocks
The roll of the waves
The rhythm of the beating wings,
The roll of the sun arriving on the horizon
From the last echo of the velvet night
To the first light of morning
You! Luminous – white light
White heat
Of the bright bulb
Bursting forth
From the blinding flash
shock of your locks
Shooting flames from your head
In the twinkling glimmer of
Your saintly left eye squinting
To see the heavenly vision of you as
The grand daddy
Of everything
Right about music
At the time
of all time
The jittery strangeness
Of a habitual outsider
Feted in France- A new rose blooming
Washing cosmic Café Florian dishes
in Kenmore Square
You can hear the rumbling shining thru
But the soul has a sound
And the sound has a view
The sound of the rumble
The rumble is you
Standing jack knifed legs splayed
Slouched behind your
Graffitti’d keyboard
Hands dancing in unison
On the sunny side of a soaring soul
In Salem with the Preacher
In the Universalist Church with circling angels
In the Cathedral in Lowell
with Herbert Huncke and Patti Smith
In the Rat with a radio heart
In the Cape Ann Courtyard
with the Sea Serpent Sculpture
In paradise, with Yo La tengo
I got it
Willie’s got it
We all got it
He catches it casually
Strolling onto the stage
Ripping thru The Fugs Frenzy
Sounding an ancient alarm
A wild man still standing
A bold man with a butterfly
On his right shoulder
A man of many collages
A man painting his dreams
The first man to play the Tea Party
The last man played on ‘BCN
A man for the rock of ages
who is ageless
who grows younger
in the timeless fountain
of his muse
Olsonic youth
Olsonic Vinegar
Olsonic boom
Boom Boom Ga ga
All things go underground
With Gerrit and glee
Ferrini well framed
By the festive sounds
Of the Fisheye brothers
Life is this poem
This poem is Willie
Willie is this life
The haunted life
The rock n roll life
The life of this party.
The life of a man
With the dancing hands with
The soul and the sound
the seagulls sing
laughing through
this seaside town.
80th Birthday Boy, Willie Alexander.
Anne Rearick, Willie’s wife, addresses the crowd with Tony Goddess (l) and Tom Clark (r) of The Cut.
Willie belts a tune with Mission of Burma and drummer Hugo Burnham from Gang of Four.
Jim Dunn rouses the crowd with his poem.
Willie peeks out at Brian King playing Willie’s iconic keyboard.
Jim Dunn and Willie Alexander. Photo credit, Angela Dunn.
Jim Dunn is the author of This Silence is a Junkyard (Spuyten Duyvil, 2022), Soft Launch (Bootstrap Press/Pressed Wafer, 2008), Convenient Hole (Pressed Wafer, 2004), and Insects In Sex (Fallen Angel Press, 1995). His work has appeared in Castle Grayskull, Blazing Stadium, Can We Have Our Ball Back?, Bright Pink Mosquito, The Process, eoagh, Gerry Mulligan, Cafe Review, Meanie, and the anthology in tribute to John Wieners, The Blind See Only In This World. He edited the John Wieners Journal, A New Book From Rome with Derek Fenner and Ryan Gallagher of Bootstrap Press.
