Hi Gary,
A canny, exciting, amazing poem! Why, O why, is that that Americans are so
good at writing poems about jazz? I can think of a few people this side of
the pond who’ve tried but... (In fact the only one I like, and like as much
as yours, is Adrian Mitchel’s Jimmy Guthrie Plays The Easy Way – which is
somewhere on the web).
I sort of think, tho, Christina’s saying something important. It does sound
like Eliot... the couplet:
“ring the raucous plea of bugle calls
and temperate timbre of Viking halls”
is class (!) but Eliot-ish (and perhaps delightfully, ironically,
un-jazzish?) as well...
But that can also be one of the poem’s strengths! If you feel you want it to
resonate alongside a poet who published his work at the time when jazz was
finding (and tapping) its feet (and carry strong rhymical links to other
poets as well).
In the last but one stanza the line “the music seeps to disturb to disturb”
seems, as I read, the want a comma or two – and the line following it (from
my mouth) seems too long (the word “dirty” seems a syllable too many). I’d
add commas to the last line as well (“to, years later, boil”).
It could also be that the last stanza is, very consciously, showing that
it’s trying to close the poem off. Some poems need to feel altogether closed
to be complete, but other’s can be left open. I’m not sure if it could be
done here - but could the sentiment be shown in a way that is even more
open, less summed-up and complete? (As a thought that backs up what I’m
trying to say – I’m wondering, y see, if that particular child will become a
jazz player... It may be great if he did, but it may be someone else who
get’s the bug – even from that night’s performance – and the child you
mention may end up different from your predetermined conclusion).
But is it part of this musician’s own style that his pieces are closed,
after following a regular and determined pattern of solo’s, or is he more
free-form in his style and less closing-the-whole-piece-down with his
endings? I guess this is a mega question... but poetry, like music, is to be
heard!
Bob



>From: Gary B <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: 4tete 85  All That Music
>Date: Mon, 1 Jul 2002 17:23:22 -0700
>
>4tete 85  All That Music
>
>Bobby Blue, blow your horn,
>encircle the night in smoky yellow sounds
>and down narrow brass streets,
>home of spotty cats with pink-eyes,
>ring the raucous plea of bugle calls
>and temperate timbre of Viking halls.
>
>We'll clap, cry and dance and shout Amen.
>We'll pop fake drumsticks upon empty dishes,
>half-smoked cigarettes afloat on curdled cream,
>as the drummer snaps his bones
>and the singer scats her way around
>spirituals until morning comes to ground.
>
>Gig done, club locked, left to mice,
>the drummer's off to pinch a game,
>the singer watches her lover's crazy sleep,
>and you, Boy Blue, tune your reed.
>But the music does not stop.
>Beyond cribs and donut shops,
>
>over rusty bridges,
>past all-night diners closed in the light,
>pocket parks and corroded headstones,
>bowery bums rich on a nickel,
>the melody drifts long lazily
>until on the south side, it finds an alley.
>
>The passage hosts doors, all broken locks
>and windows more air than glass.
>Through one high in the darkest corner,
>the music seeps to disturb to disturb
>a crack baby's sleep as he lays on dirty sheets.
>And your beat, Blue Boy's, your beat
>
>melds with the thin child's dreams,
>finds and fills an emptiness, a hole,
>to years later boil a new jazzman's soul.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>June Thomas and new Gar trash at: http://gardawg.homestead.com/gardawg.html
>
>*New*  Wild/Eliot  Hyperpoem at:  http://wildhyper.homestead.com/front.html
>
>Poets for Peace.  ¡Poemas sí, balas no!




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