Jazz Poems

JAZZ FANTASIA Drum on your drums, batter on your banjoes, sob on the long cool winding saxophones Go to it, O jazzmen. Sling your knuckles on the bottoms of the happy tin pans, let your trombones ooze, and go husha- husha-hush with the slippery sand-paper. Moan like an autumn wind high in the lonesome tree- tops, moan soft like you wanted somebody terrible, cry like a racing car slipping away from a motorcycle cop, bang-bang! you jazzmen, bang altogether drums, traps, banjoes, horns, tin cans-–make two people fight on the top of a stairway and scratch each other’s eyes in a clinch tumbling down the stairs. Can the rough stuff… now a Mississippi steamboat pushes up the night river with a hoo-hoo-hoo-oo… and the green lanterns calling to the high soft stars… a red moon rides on the humps of the low river hills… go to it, O jazzmen. CARL SANDBURG

from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young

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