poetry          politics         technology          art          music          meditation           literature           science
   
::: home | poems | bio | awards | books | links | contact
     
:::
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Coming tomorrow:
 
 
 
ASTERS AND GOLDENROD
 
 
 
PAPER AND STONE
 
 
 
DROUGHT
 
     
  列印檔案  
  email  
     
:::
 
 

|  CLIFFORD AND JAKE

 
  Here's how they meet:
Jake bops into the room
doing his best Jake-trot
head-bob arm-weave
to the syncopated notes
of Brownie's trumpet,
matching frenzy and heat
to Max Roach's drum shots.

This big old music
soaks the walls
and Jake dances
toward his bed. Clifford's hard swing,
that spheres beyond the bones
of instruments,
pulls Jake beyond
his muscles, a lightness,
times him to the
beat beat beat
and lands him in bed
with a bounce.

I promise him jazz dreams,
and he knows what I mean
even if I don't. His hand still tapping,
head on pillow, eyes
closed. Smile. A handshake
from Clifford Brown
that breaks through how many
worlds, how many
stories of life-cut-short,
his hand outreached,
notes stopping on
the last punch
as his car crumples forty-five years ago
when he was only twenty-five.


from The Wind is a Tall Man Striding
watershedBooks
2000
Copyright © Jim Slominski