Richard Cuccaro took the photo of Marj Hahne reciting her "Praise Poem for Ellis Paul". The picture was taken at the Mainstage Coffeehouse at its former location in Mt. Kisko, NY.
"He stood at the foot of the stage and let her take over the show, briefly. While her exuberant accolades might seem a bit over-the top in spots for some, they get to the heart of what we feel about this whirlwind we know as… Ellis Paul." -- Richard Cuccaro in Acoustic Live (March 2002)
Praise Poem for Ellis Paul by Marj Hahne
Tell us, Ellis, Mr. Singer-Songwriter Sage, Mr. Six-String Evangelist, you
linguistic mystic, you sooth-tongued voodoo guru, how you do whatchoo do,
how you hocus-pocus stoke us with your folk tales, your wildfire story jokes,
your hear-me-out lyrics, your 3000 miles of lines—
a moment on your lips
a lifetime on the hips of my Man!-You-blow-my mind!
You know my mind, you man with 3000 eyes, you
larger-than-life-size Mr. Potato Head, you man from Maine,
you’re my main man, you are, like, so totally cosmic.
You are like rain, the way your words hold water,
the way they raise high the heart-roof, raise high the river
of this crazy ain’t-slowin’-down world.
Yes, I’m crazy for you, Ellis, so amazed by your grace—
how very grand the human face is on your sand-mandala songs.
Mr. Sandman, you rock me awake, break the cradle of our
same-old same-old, rattleshake this shake-’n-bake fate, this
State your order at the stage: Give us Paris in a Day
doesn’t matter what you play, you can slice ’em, you can
dice ’em, you can even julienne, french-fry ’em, Mr. Je Ne Sais Quoi,
Mr. Bodhisattva Balladeer, Mr. Music Messiah, you deliver every time
like it’s the last coming, like it’s coming down to the wire,
you deliver me higher than an Eiffel Tower kite.
You’ve got me flying, sighing, crying crocodile smiles,
I am swimming in the Ganges of your swami-charmed
do do do do do
How do you do whatchoo do, how do you
raise the dead, shed snakeskin lives,
how do you swallow sky?
Mr. Red-Bliss Potato Head,
Mr. Perfect Word Dervish—
how you wet flesh
how you spin breath