Jazz Poems

THE BLUES OF THIS DAY


The blues of this day
are as elegant and as sad
as the minor thirds and we all try to sing it.

What we want is to be brass
The horn-scratched voice blown through.
Valves as golden as his. Lord as crazy sex
or first real heartbreak.

It was always his back slightly bent away
from all of us who adored him, gazing across his

shoulders as the band jumped into the party
one solo at a ti
Or they could be rocking way off-ke
going as far away from the melody as Venus to Mars.
Funk can be as easy as t
getting together in the dark.

And as hard as the breaking light
that catches the throat of sated lovers, the morning after.
The talk the night before by the last of his men
who knew the way of the world and then some,
about Miles and his two steps ahead of the century
like the first Black man to leave the Delta humming
I gotta go, but I can’t take you.
I gotta go, but I can’t take you.
If you want to follow, then do what you want to do.

Patricia Spears Jones

from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young

SUITE TABU 200

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Jazz Poems

WALKING PARKER HOME

Sweet beats of jazz impaled on slivers of wind

Kansas Black Morning/First Horn Eyes/

Historical sound pictures on New Bird wings

People shouts/ boy alto dreams/ Tomorrow’s

Gold belled pipe of stops and future Blues Times

Lurking Hawkins/ shadows of Lester/ realization

Bronzer fingers–brain extensions seeking trapped sounds

Ghetto thoughts/ bandstand courage/ solo flight

Nerve-wracked suspicions of never songs and doubts

New York altar city/ black tears/ secret disciples

Hammer horn pounding soul markson unswinging gates

Cultural gods/ mob sounds/ visions of spikes

Panic excursions to tribal Jazz wombs and transfusions

Heroin nights of birth/ and soaring/ over boppy new ground

Smothered rage covering pyramids of notes spontaneously exploding

Cool revelations/ shrill hopes/beauty speared into greedy ears

Birdland nights on bop mountains, windy saxophone revolutions.

Dayrooms of junk/ and melting walls and circling vultures/

Money cancer/ remembered pain/ terror flights/ 

Death and indestructible existence

In that Jazz corner of life

Wrapped in a mist of sound

His legacy, our Jazz-tinted dawn

Wailing his triumphs of oddly begotten dreams

Inviting the nerveless to feel once more

That fierce dying of humans consumed

In raging fires of Love.

 

BOB KAUFMAN 

 

from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young

SUITE TABU 200

 

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Jazz Poems

THE BUDDY BOLDEN CYLINDER

 

It doesn’t exist, I know, but I lovev

to think of it, wrapped in a shawl

or bridal veil, or, less dramatically,

in an old copy of the Daily Picayune,

and like a nunstaled, unhatched egg

from which, at the right touch, like mine,

the legendary tone, sealed these long years

in the amber of neglect, would peal and re-

peal across the waters. What waters do

I have in mind? Nothing symbolic, mind you.

I meant the sinuous and filth-rich

Mississippi across which you could hear

him play from Gretna, his tone was so loud

and sweet, with a moanin it like you were

in church, and on those old, slow, low-down

blues Buddy culd make the women jump

the way they liked. But it doesn’t exist,

it never did, except as a relic

for a jazz hagiography, and all

we think we know about Bolden’s music

is, really, a melancholy gossip

and none of it sown by Bolden, who

spent his last twenty-four years in Jackson

(Insane Asylum of Louisiana)

hearing the voices of people who spooked

him before he got there. There’s more than one

kind of ghostly music in the air, all

of them like the wind: you can see it

but you can see the leaves shiver in place

as if they’d like to turn their insides out.

 

WILLIAM MATTHEWS

 

from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young

SUITE TABU 200

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Jazz Poems

TOUCHING THE PAST Uptown New Orleans, 1940, And here was a man of the right color, Old enough to have been there, Who maybe heard. So I enquired From the old man doing his yard work “Ever hear Buddy Bolden play?” “Ah me,” he said, stopping his work, “Yes. But you mean King, King Bolden. That’s what we called him then.” He leaned on his rake a while, resting. “Used to play in Algiers, played so loud We could hear him clear ‘cross the river.” He seemed listening. “King Bolden, now, There was a man could play.” We stood there, Thinking about it, smiling. ROBERT SARGENT

from Jazz Poems | Selected and edited by Kevin Young

SUITE TABU 200

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Jazz Poems

WE REAL COOL THE POOL PLAYERS SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon. GWENDOLYN BROOKS

from Jazz Poems | Selected and edited by Kevin Young

SUITE TABU 200

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