Jazz Poems
GYRE’S GALAX
Sound variegated through beneath lit
Sound variegated through beneath lit through sound beneath variegated lit sound variegated through beneath litVariegated sound through beneath lit dark
Variegated sound through beneath lit dark sound variegated through beneath lit variegated sound through beneath lit darkThrough variegated beneath sound lit
Through variegated beneath sound lit through variegated beneath sound lit through variegated beneath sound lit Through variegated beneath sound lit Through variegated beneath sound lit through beneath lit through beneath lit through beneath lit through beneath lit Thru beneath Thru beneath Thru beneath through beneath lit Thru beneath through beneath lit Thru beneath through beneath lit Thru beneath Thru beneath through beneath lit Thru beneath Thru beneath through beneath lit Thru beneath Thru beneath Thru beneath Thru beneath Thru beneath Thru beneath Thru beneath Through beneath litTwainly simple of amongst
twainly simple of amongst Twainly simple of amongst twainly simple of amongst Twainly simple of amongst twainly simple of amongst In lit black viewly viewly viewly in viewly viewly viewly in viewly viewly in viewly viewly in viewly viewly viewly viewly in viewly viewly In lit black viewly in dark to stark In dark to stark In dark to stark in dark to stark In dark to stark in dark to stark In dark to stark In above beneath In above beneath In above beneath above beneath lit above beneath above beneath above beneath above beneath lit above beneath above beneath lit above beneath above beneath lit above beneath above beneath lit above beneath above beneath above beneath above beneath above beneath lit above beneath above beneath above beneath lit above beneath above beneath above beneath above beneath above beneath above beneath above beneath above beneath above beneath litN. H. PRITCHARD
from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young
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Jazz Poems
LEAVING SATURN
Sun Ra & His Year 2000 Myth Science
Arkestra at Grendel’s Lair Cabaret, 1986
Skyrocketed—
My eyes dilate old
Copper pennies.
Effortlessly, I play
*
Manifesto of the One
Stringed Harp. Only
This time I’m washed
Ashore, shipwrecked
*
In Birmingham.
My black porcelain
Fingers, my sole
Possession. So I
*
Hammer out
Equations for
A New Thing
Ogommetelli.
*
Ovid & Homer
Behind me, I toss
Apple peelings in
The air & half-hear
*
Brush strokes,the up
Kick of autumn
Leaves, the Arkestra
Laying down for
*
New dimensions,
I could be at Berkeley
Teaching a course—
Fixin’s How to Dress
*
Myth or Generations
Spaceships in Harlem
Instead, vibes from Chi-
Town, must be Fletcher’s
*
Big Band Music—oh,
My brother, the wind—
I know this life is
Only a circus. I’m
*
Brushed aside: a naïf,
A charlatan, too avant-
Garde. Satellite music for
A futuristic tent, says
*
One critic. Heartbreak
In outer space, says
Another, —lunar
Dust on the brain.
*
I head to New York
New York loves
A spectacle wet pain
Of cement, sweet
*
Scent of gulls swirling
Between skyscrapers
So tall, looks like war
If what I’m told is true
*
Mars is dying, it’s after
The end of the world.
So, here I am,
In Philadelphia,
*
Death’s headquarters,
Here to save the cosmos,
Here to dance in a bed
Of living gravestones.
MAJOR JACKSON
from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young
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Jazz Poems
THELONIOUS SPHERE MONK
Cold, the day you leave
you can use that hat.
Ahh Monk, the station fades
as the suburbs begin
you bent the notes right
they will not lose their ring.
I see your shuffle dance
up from the 5 Spot piano
and hear you, wordless, sing.
BILL CORBETT
from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young
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Jazz Poems
CREPUSCULE WITH NELLIE
For Ira
Monk at the Five Spotlate one night.
Ruby my Dear, Epistrophy.
The place nearly empty
Because of the cold spell.
One beautiful black transvestite
alone up front,
Sipping his drink demurely.
The music Pythagorean,
one note at a time
Connecting the heavenly spheres,
While I leaned against the bar
surveying the premises
Through cigarette smoke.
All of a sudden, a clear senseof a memorable occasion…
The joy of it, the delicious melancholy…
This very strange manbent over the piano
shaking his head, humming…
Misterioso.
Then it was all over, thank you!
Chairs being stacked up on tables,
their legs up.
The prospect of the freeze outside,
the long walk home,
Making one procrastinatory.
Who said Americans don’t have history,
only endless nostalgia?
And where the hell was Nellie?
CHARLES (DUŠAN) SIMIĆ
from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young
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Jazz Poems
FOR ART BLAKEY AND THE JAZZ MESSENGERS For the sound we revere we dub you art as continuum as spirit as sound of depth here to stay In my young years I heard you bopping and weaving messages I could only walk to where wood mates with skin I would have dubbed you godhead but your sound rolled and pealed I am the drumhead even though Blue Note don’t care nothing bout nothing but profit How you sound is who you are where your ear leans moaning or bopping from the amen corner of chicken and dumpling memories and places In my young years I would have dubbed you something strange as god of opiate heaven of brutal contact of bible and rifle memories But the drumhead rolled my name: How you sound is who you are like drumsound backing back to root roosting at the meeting place the time that has always been here Even here where wood mates with skin on wax to make memory, to place us even in this hideous place pp-ppounding pp-ppounding the ss-ssounds of who we are even in this place of strange and brutal design KEORAPETSE KGOSITSILE | 1938~2018from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young
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