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Seven Songs on Poems of Grace Paley
2025

soprano
percussion
  gong, 3 log drums, sizzle cymbal, suspended cymbal, vibraphone
piano 

duration 25'

SCORE
Winter Afternoon
Right Now
Drowning (I)
I See My Friend Everywhere
Is There a Difference Between Men and Women
Drowning (II)
In the Bus

TEXTS
Winter Afternoon
Old men and women walk by my window
they’re frightened    it’s icy wintertime
they take small steps    they’re looking
at their feet    they’re glad to be
going    they hate
the necessity

sometimes the women wear heels    why
do they do this    the old women’s
heads are bent    they see their shoes
which are often pointy    these shoes
were made for crossed legs in the
evening    pointing

                                  sometimes the old men
walk a dog    the dog moves too fast
the man stands still    the dog stands
still    the smells come to the dog
floating from the square earth of the
plane tree    from the tires of cars
at rest    all this interesting life
and adventure comes to the waiting dog
the man doesn’t know this    the street
is too icy    old women in pointy shoes
and high heels pass him    their necks
in fur collars bent    their eyes watch
their small slippery feet



Right Now
The women let the tide go out
                               which will return    which will return
the sand    the salt    the fat drowned babies
The men ran furiously
                               along the banks of the estuary
screaming
                 Come back you fucking sea
right now
                 right now



Drowning (I)
If I were in the middle of the Atlantic
          drowning    far from home
I would look up at the sky
          veil of my hiding life
and say:
          goodbye

then I would sink

the second time I’d come up    I’d say
          these are the willful waves of the watery sea
          which is drowning me
then I would sink
the third time I’d come up    it would be my last
          my arms    reaching
          my knees    falling
I’d cry    oh    oh
          first friend of my thinking head
          dear flesh
          farewell



I See My Friend Everywhere
First she died    then on the bus
I saw her    my old friend dropped
her half fare into the slot
looked up    her eyes humorous
intelligent    cap of white hair
shining    I asked her    how’s the boy
these days    not so good    but you
know that    your work?    is it going
well?    what work she whispered (bitterly
I thought)    are you all right?    why
do you ask?    I was afraid of her

the bus rocked and bumped over and
through New York    unsteady    I called out
STOP    this is where I get off    here?
since when?    oh for the last couple
of years    she nearly touched my hand
yes    I said    you were still alive



Is There a Difference
Between Men and Women
Oh the slave trade
      the arms trade
death on the high seas
      massacre in the villages

          trade in the markets
                  melons mustard greens
          cloth shining    dipped in
                  onion dye beet grass
          trade in the markets    fish
                  oil    yams    coconuts    leaves
          of water spinach    leaves
                  of pure water    cucumbers
          pickled    walking back
                  and forth along the stalls
          cloth bleached to ivory
                  argument from stall to stall
          disgusted and delighted
                  in the market

oh the worldwide arms trade
      the trade in women’s bodies
the slave trade
      slaughter

          oranges coming in from
                  the country in one
          basket on the long
                  pole    coconuts in
          the other    on the
                  shoulders of women
          walking    knees slightly bent
                  scuffing   stumbling
          along the road    bringing
                  rice into the city
          hoisting the bundles of dry
                  mangrove for repair
          of the household    trade
                  in the markets on
          the women’s backs and shoulders
                  yams    sometimes peanuts

oh the slave trade
      the trade in the bodies of women
the worldwide unending arms-trade
      everywhere man-made slaughter



Drowning (II)
This is how come I am drowned:
       First the sun shone on me
       Then the wind blew over me
       Then the sand polished me
       Then the sea touched me
       Then the tide came



In the Bus
Somewhere between Greenfield and Holyoke
snow became rain
and a child passed through me
as a person moves through mist
as the moon moves through
a dense cloud at night
as though I were cloud or mist
a child passed through me

On the highway that lies
across miles of stubble
and tobacco barns our bus speeding
speeding disordered the slanty rain
and a girl with no name    naked
wearing the last nakedness of
childhood    breathed in me
                   once   no
                   two breaths
a sigh   she whispered    Hey you
begin again
                   Again?
again    again    you’ll see
it’s easy    begin again    long ago

Grace Paley (1955–2007)