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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