Dancing at Reds: Poetry by Tom Miller

Dancing At Reds

Poetry by Tom Miller

Production by Jordan Rich

Cover Art by Joe Kevin Coleman

www.tommillersvoice

CD

Review by Dennis Daly

Spoken Word materialized magically and immediately in front of me one night at a little coffee shop in Lynn Massachusetts called the Walnut Street Coffee Café. One by one Patrons recited their poems, told their tales, and spouted their jokes. Most of it was non-academic and very down-to-earth. Some of it was memorized, but much of it was read. And virtually all of it, especially that first time, compelled room-wide interest and riveted attention.

At the time I had little interest in performance poetry, never mind spoken word. Now I appreciate both genres, if spoken word can even be compacted into a single genre or type. Take for example Tom Miller, the subject of this review. When Tom reads the audience listens; the very timbre of his voice demands it. And what a voice he has!

Quoting sections of Tom’s poems will not always do because they are not built that way; many of them cling inseparably to Tom’s voice. He seems to modulate the words to match the voice delivering them and vice versa until the two are harmoniously intertwined. In Miller’s introduction he says, “What I try to do is choose words that allow readers and listeners to visualize those images in their minds and in their own way.” Exactly, just like the faceless waiters and waitresses on the CD’s jacket, Miller’s sparse wording is open to personal interpretation. It’s no wonder that his first professional publication is a CD rather than a chapbook. The CD adds a sound tract with a musical background provided by Jordan Rich, a consummate professional at such things. The music emphasizes Miller’s voice patterns rather than adding or subtracting from the tone and rendition of these poems. The artwork on the jacket of the CD, done by the apparently multi-talented Joe Kevin Coleman (also a Spoken Word poet), fits perfectly.

Miller’s first two pieces, Speak Out and Gathering of Poets pay homage to the particulars of the Walnut Street Coffee Café venue as well as the Spoken Word movement that originated his shtick. He praises the multiplicity of voices and the immediacy of the performance. In effect he says you have to be there. In Gathering of Poets Miller puts it this way,

You can not touch it

If you have not been there

And felt the passion

Of the expression of their minds.

You can not know the bond

If you have not been there

Of craftsmen who work with words

And are driven to be heard.

Poems, stories, songs.

One and the same.

Portraits, landscapes,

Melodies on the wind.

Miller hammers out many of his poems from the raw materials of life’s ups and downs. He exudes the vocal confidence of an oracle in his method of delivery. He has travelled life’s endless roads and knows the geography of which he speaks. Consider these lines from his poem The Roads,

I have been to the deserts in the west.

I have seen the formations and white dunes

And winding dry valleys and tasted cactus

And seen the ball of fire in the cloudless sky

And heard the movement of quiet things all around

And felt the hot dry wind sear and sought shelter.

When Miller’s voice adds itself to the universality of the above lines, it grounds them with character in a counterpoint of dance. Another poem with a similar effect Miller entitles Dancing at Reds. The poet sets this piece in a popular townie breakfast joint in Salem, Massachusetts.  Miller’s assertive voice rises to a crescendo above the percussive background noises common to these type of restaurants. The poem reads well on the page, but, again, in order to fully appreciate it you must hear it in Miller’s unique vocal interpretation. Here’s the heart of the poem,

They sway this way and that.

Backsteps, sidesteps, sidesteps and twirls.

Their costumes of black

Accented by aprons decorated with grease.

They play percussions with spatulas and presses.

Their movements are well practiced

And executed with consummate skill.

Eggs spoonwhipped in a metal bowl.

Pools of batter poured out on the grill.

Splashes of yellow sizzle into omelets.

Steaming peppers and mushrooms, layers of cheese

Folded with a finishing flip of the hand.

Vocals of “behind you”

“Carrie, Laurie, Donna, pick up please!”

Dancing at Reds doubles as the CD’s title poem and, with The Wolf, one of the two masterworks of this collection.

Miller’s last poem, the aforementioned The Wolf, builds its strength on an unmoving central image, delivered in simple phrases as only this poet can deliver them. Unmistakably a metaphor for death, The Wolf is neither morbid nor morose.  The piece presents death as a psychological construct entering reality in a dream and vanishing in the sun’s glare. Miller’s persona comes across as stoic and intense and, above all, patient. The poet says,

He sits not far from the porch

Resting back on his haunches.

Beyond, the sunlight filters through trees and brush

And the day seems pleasant and bright

His fur is thick and full.

Shades of gray and white and black.

His eyes are yellow and bright.

They look at nothing and everything.

He is strong. Confident. Quiet.

He is waiting for me.

I can feel it.

I know it.

He waits.

Now available and worth every cent, Miller’s CD offers entrée onto the stage of the Spoken Word phenomenon with its modulated rhythms and soothing wisdoms. It’s a great starting point. Then go to the Walnut Street Coffee Café or a venue like it and speak out.