The poet and the jazzman met in a San Francisco basement, aptly named The Cellar, to discuss a fusion of the arts. "In Now with Winter," said the poet, "we try something slow and soft. In Artifacts we want a sax solo, like the thrill is gone."
"You mean," said the jazzman, pointing to the text, "we goof around here."
"Yeah," said the poet. "Have a ball." Then the combo climbed onto the bandstand and gave out with a rippling accompaniment while the poet chanted into the mike. His name was Kenneth Ford, and he...
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