Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

"Coleman Hawkins (D. 1969). RIP" by William Matthews pays tribute to the legendary jazz saxophonist Coleman Hawkins, capturing the essence of his music and the profound impact of his passing. The poem is a reflection on Hawkins' distinctive sound, the physical and emotional labor behind his music, and the personal loss felt by the speaker.

The opening line, "As if that sax / were made of bone wrenched from his wrist," immediately conveys the deep, almost painful connection between Hawkins and his instrument. The imagery suggests that playing the saxophone was an extension of his very being, as if the sax were a part of his body. This metaphor highlights the intimate and visceral nature of his music, emphasizing that the sounds he produced were not just notes but an outpouring of his essence.

Matthews describes Hawkins' music as "dank music / of his breath," evoking a sense of raw, earthy emotion. The use of the word "dank" conveys a moist, heavy quality, suggesting a deep, resonant sound that carries a weight of emotion and experience. When Hawkins "blew ballads," the poem notes, "you knew one use of force: / withholding it." This line highlights Hawkins' mastery of restraint, using subtlety and control to convey profound emotion. It emphasizes that power in music often comes not from overt force, but from the deliberate choice to hold back, creating tension and depth.

The poem describes Hawkins' music as "a river of muscles," a powerful metaphor that conveys the strength and fluidity of his playing. This image suggests a natural, flowing force that is both strong and flexible, capable of conveying a wide range of emotions. The mention of "Old dimes oily from handling, / eggs scrambled just right in a diner / after eight gigs in nine nights" paints a picture of the gritty, hardworking life of a musician. These details capture the everyday realities and small pleasures that come with a demanding career, grounding the poem in the tangible experiences of Hawkins' life.

The line "a New Yorker profile, a new Leica / for the fun of having one" contrasts the mundane with the luxurious, reflecting the mix of recognition and personal indulgences that marked Hawkins' life. The "New Yorker profile" suggests cultural recognition and acclaim, while the "new Leica" camera represents a personal luxury, hinting at a love for capturing moments or simply enjoying the finer things.

The poem shifts to a more personal and visceral reaction with the lines "Gasps and twitches. / It’s like having the breath / knocked out of me / and wearing the lost air for a leash." Here, the speaker expresses the physical sensation of loss, likening it to the experience of being winded. The "lost air for a leash" suggests a sense of being tethered or constrained by the absence of something vital, a powerful metaphor for the grief and disorientation that follows the loss of someone significant.

The poem concludes with the speaker's direct expression of grief: "I snuffle home. / I hate it that he’s dead." The use of "snuffle" conveys a sense of quiet, private mourning, a subtle yet poignant way of expressing sadness. The straightforward statement "I hate it that he’s dead" cuts through the metaphors and imagery, offering a raw, unfiltered expression of loss and anger.

"Coleman Hawkins (D. 1969). RIP" captures the complexity of Hawkins' artistry and the emotional impact of his passing. Matthews uses vivid imagery and metaphors to convey the physical and emotional dimensions of Hawkins' music, as well as the personal grief felt by those who admired him. The poem serves as both a tribute to Hawkins' legacy and an exploration of the profound connection between artist and listener, highlighting the lasting influence of music and the deep sense of loss that comes with the end of a remarkable life.

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