Bill Cushing's Brasshouse Buskers

Last week I was supposed to post this poem by Bill Cushing as well, but here it is tonight.  Enjoy!  Summer is a good time to read poetry and listen to music.

“ZOOZ’S BRASSHOUSE” BUSKING

Three spheres of instrument—percussion, sax,  

and trumpet: brass, reed, and skin—become

a discussion of brash banging fun. 

The three surround a pail, collecting

donations for their beating counterpoint, 

a concerto akin to some surreal 

coo-coo clock. The day’s audience gathers: 

waiting commuters, tourists, regulars, 

a few hipsters. The bucket fills, singles 

and fives mostly, some tens, one guy stirs

a twenty. Two skinny Santas dance 

into view, a yuletide boogie. The music 

shrieks, shocks, squeals, and squawks, yet there’s fluid 

motion in the high-stepping legs, the feet 

that slide, circling Union Square platform

in waves that weave seductive, as these three 

dance and create a wake in a shape 

that’d break the back of a snake.

Bill Cushing

Bill also sent me this YouTube video of Too Many Zooz.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMyqasy2Lco

Hard to believe that they are playing at 3:33 AM, the time when all good personal trainers get up and everyone else is asleep.

I think I've posted this video before, but it's worth listening to again:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMe6Y8GDVEI

I like the name "Spocktopus":  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qc57-IcwnB0&list=PLFIuv6J2T6zztf18uinLjVKy71bT_zq7b

"Warriors" is a new video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ve_p5lfYIIs

At last...Listening to Bird

Let's return to poetry about jazz with tonight's poem by Bill Cushing.   I am always happy to receive wonderful poetry about great musicians--no matter which contest is going on.

LISTENING TO BIRD

Flying through scales

he did the impossible, stretching

staccato sounds,

stopping only to change direction.

He found places

in his search for every note

not imagined:

leaving chromatic gravity,

breaking confines,

shooting up into infinity;

then he rested,

hanging on a single, random chord;

bending branches

of music (but never breaking them),

lingering

wherever he chose, staying

just long enough

to make it his territory

and his alone.

-- Bill Cushing

You can listen to Bill read this poem *and* watch a very cool video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=er8ob1QqRrs

Or you can listen to some music by Bird himself.

Tonight I'll post "All the Things You Are":  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTORd2Y_X6U

Here is his "Bird of Paradise": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_0Rib-0VkY&list=PLbFknnbkaiq3-yTKrmeM69iD1i2KrMChd

I'll finish with a live recording of Bird and Monk from 1948:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7QoV9a9gxE

Enjoy!

Daniel Snethen's Nature Poetry

Thank you, Daniel, for your patience.  Tonight (now that my grading is finally over) I'd like to post your poems that you sent a while back.  The beginning of the summer is a fine time to return to nature.  Since it has been raining constantly in Maryland these past few days, Daniel's poems will have to do for now.

Haiku

bat wings echoing

Owyhee County mineshaft

frightened spelunkers

Haiku

beady eyes, grey tail

popcorn puff clenched between teeth

scurries across floor

Majestic Mighty Mo

From Montana headwaters,

widening winding river flows—

Majestic Mighty Mo.

Steeped with prehistoric denizens.

Paddle-fish and sturgeon,

false-map  and leatherback turtles—

majestic pisces and terrapins

of the Majestic Mighty Mo.

Gavins Point and Oahe.

Fort Randall and Big Bend

all help ebb the flow

of the Majestic Mighty Mo.

Turbines churning,

create an electric electron flow--

lighting the prairie region

surrounding the Majestic Mighty Mo.

Coursing its way through Dakota

like a life-sustaining artery.

 Majestic Mighty Mo.

Mistaken Identity

The tiny serpent 

lay beside my pitfall trap

seeming to want

my attention.

Gingerly, I picked it up

around the middle—

taking in the glorious features 

of this tiny bullsnake. 

But the color was wrong,

too red—not brown,

like the juvenile of 

Pituophis cantenifer—

but rather like the red

of the juvenile Coluber constrictor,

which turns grayish-green

as an adult blue racer.

However, the dorsal pattern

was not quite right,

and the girth— 

hefty, not slender.

I looked at the tail end

of this docile diminutive serpent 

and then I noticed 

the keratinous button of youth.

Haiban

An ancient planet, an ancient society, post apocalyptic survivors of a world irradiated and ruined by alien invasion. Forced underground, a subterranean existence necessitated the evolution of an alternative life style. Eyes functional but sightless in a world with no light, these fossorial denizens tunnel blindly searching for nutrient, sustenance and the opportunity to procreate during any chance encounter with another of its kind…extinction thwarted by hermaphroditic evolution.

nocturnal worms meet

evolution takes no chance

hermaphrodite love

Haiku (Scorpion)

poison tail poised

field cricket frozen in fear

pinned on poison point

Haiku

side-winding serpents

chisel-toothed kangaroo rats

telltale sandy trails 

Spearfish Creek

Spearfish Creek

freezes

from the bottom up.

Current too swift

to freeze 

from the surface down.

It is backwards

and sacred

like the Lakota Heyoka.

It flows all winter long,

satiating the thirst

of the deer,

the raven,

the lone traveler

and all the denizens

of the Black Hills.

It is Mni Wakan,

sacred waters

that never freeze.

Charlie Haden and Pat Metheny's "Beyond the Missouri Sky" 

would certainly fit well with Daniel's poems:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtSpiF5q-Cg


I'd like to include their "Moon Song" as well:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtSpiF5q-Cg


Below is Haden's "Taney County" from his 1986 album Quartet 

West:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?

v=DClOeajxGf0&list=PL2AuIlz4sz6XCk50d9SLOfO2_yqJqbs4i


I'll finish with Pat Metheny's version of the Beatles' "And I Love Her":  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYcZ6s3z1jg

Returning with Bryn Fortey

By © Jorge Royan / http://www.royan.com.ar, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=20640042

The Song Is...  returns with two poems by the jazz poet Bryn Fortey.  

SINS OF THE FATHER

Tucked away within my record collection

MIRAGE by Romano Mussolini

Billed as by his TRIO

Though six musicians took part

This was apparently his debut CD

Put out in 1974

I know very little about Il Duce’s youngest son

Straight after WW2 he’d called himself Still

When playing Italian jazz clubs

And waited some time before using his real name

How I acquired the record remains a mystery

Too much has happened in my life to remember

I definitely would not have bought it new

But maybe it was a Charity Shop purchase

Maybe it was something borrowed

But never returned

I myself lost records that way

I mainly write short stories now

And often like a musical background

MIRAGE is a favourite in that capacity

Romano himself plays an entertaining electric piano

And the unknown Italians with him

Are surprisingly good

It seems he was a private man

Who kept any political views to himself 

And would not openly discuss his father

Until writing two books quite late in his life

If Romano Mussolini hoped his music would speak for him

Then he succeeded with me

Bryn Fortey

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THREE TRACKS FOR A FUNERAL

It’s a game many play:

Picking the three pieces of music

To be played at your funeral

And if you’re anything like me

It’s an almost impossible task

The older I become

The fewer my potential mourners

Family, some neighbours, not many friends

They are mostly already dead themselves

Or too old and infirm, or too far away

Track 1, to stir the aching bones

Of those who do attend, will be:

Weather Bird by Louis Armstrong

A trumpet/piano duet with Earl Hines

Recorded in Chicago, December 5, 1928

This is Armstrong at the peak of his

Hot Fives and Sevens years

And if it doesn’t get you tapping your feet

Then you should be in the box alongside me

A female vocalist, I think, for Track 2

The incomparable Ella, Lady Day, quirky Nina?

But maybe I’ll let my libido push me past the limits

Of pure vocal perfection, and go for

After The Rain by Shirley Bassey

Written by Richard Hawley for her The Performance CD

After a career highlighted by big voiced ballads

This was quiet, laid back, reflective

And the 70+ Dame from Tiger Bay nailed it

My younger self fancied Miss Bassey like crazy

My older self is no less admiring 

I came to the music of Leonard Cohen late

But when I did he blew my socks off

Becoming such a favourite he gets the Track 3 spot with

Alexandra Leaving off his Ten New Songs CD

There are so many of his songs I could have chosen

But I think this one has such a beautiful melody

But maybe I will do it the David Bowie way

Body straight to the crematorium 

Without the trappings of a service, so no music either

I had better make up my mind soon though, I guess

Bryn Fortey  

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Below is a picture of a funeral procession in the Philippines.

By moyerphotos - originally posted to Flickr as Philippines Funeral Procession, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8783702

Let's listen to some of the music Bryn mentioned in his poems.

I'll start with the title cut from Romano Mussolini's Mirage: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8hgm4uwJ1w

This is his "Omaggio a Oscar Peterson": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bcphAR_do54

Here comes Louis Armstrong's "Weather Bird."  It certainly does get my toes tapping.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hyb_wr40pog

Shirley Bassey performs "After the Rain":
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LNu3PAIZuAU

I'll finish with Leonard Cohen's "Alexandra Leaving."  He is singing with Sharon Robinson.  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbGsEV5yvns

Enjoy!

South, West, North, and East with the DC Poetry Spot

art by Jurgen Appelo

Now that midterms are over and that I've made the transition to a new computer, I'd like to post some poems from a workshop I led back in September 2017.  As the picture above implies, I asked my fellow poets to note which direction they were facing and write poems inspired by that.  This workshop had been inspired by a Forrest Yoga workshop I had attended in January 2017.  There one of our activities was to call or chant in the Four Directions.  It was a wonderfully illuminating workshop.

Let's start with Miss Kiane's poems.  (Miss Kiane oversees the DC Poetry Spot.)

Facing South

Like the migrant bird, I turn my expectations South

Gathering as many scattered memories from this fleeting season as possible

Like bare legs, impromptu picnics, face devouring sunglasses and vitamin D overdoses.

The winter is coming, and I must protect my soul

From its cold talons.

My wings are in spirit only. 

I cannot fly South.

So, I burn summer memories to keep me warm

Until the South returns to me.

---- copyright 2017 by Dinahsta Kiane Thomas

*********************************************************************************

East

East coast, a modern day land of milk and honey

Small narrow streets

Driven on by gaudy, gas guzzlers

But they are shiny so….

Tiny apartments house BIG dreams.

Huge price tags are met with the working poor salaries.

Fast-paced trajectories turn pupils into dollar signs

And “once in a lifetime opportunities” are purchased

With the things that really matter.

---- copyright 2017 by Dinahsta Kiane Thomas

Dinahsta Thomas also known as Miss Kiane is a social worker by profession and poet by passion.  Through her business Kiane Ink Healing in the Pen, LLC, she uses poetry / creative expression as a spring board to host community events, offer self-improvement workshops and engage in charitable efforts.  She oversees the DC Poetry Spot meetup and travels the States performing poetry.  In her own words “Poetry is my friend….my catharsis….my gift to the world.”  For more information, visit her website at www.kianeink.com

Photograph by Ted Eytan

Kamilah Carlisle faced north:

The strangest lullaby I ever heard

Was the commotion going on outside my window

Those summer nights in New York city

Were as sweet as a child’s dreams

The house I visited never utilized the AC

And it was glorious

The air was so fond of me

Thick with pure bliss

As I wait to fall asleep

The screeching sounds of Harlem

Lulled me to peace

Either those train tracks were simply rusted

Or they played a symphony just for me

-- copyright 2017 by Kamilah Carlisle

Her bio follows: "I am Kamilah Carlisle, a 24 year old Computer Science major hailing from Largo, MD. I have always been interested in writing since a young age. It has been an outlet for my vivid imagination and the rich way in which I perceive the world around me. "

CC BY-SA 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1958483

Although Suriya was not at this particular workshop, I invited her to join this gathering of poets.

A Yes Poem

By Suriya

Mais oui...Por supuesto, si

Aye ... No doubt...Absolutely

With words of affirmation I fling wide the door welcoming opportunity

Inviting Her in & offering a plate

a glass, a steaming mug, a cushioned seat

Yes I say

When universe poses the question

I concur wholeheartedly that now is the moment

and this is the season

We accept the challenge to do more than thought possible

to mesh purpose with persistence

and find pleasure in the process

We sing sugar-free symphonies

buoyed by belief in the 

pure power of positivity

Her bio follows: Writing is this poet's happy place. This piece came out of a collaborative workshop in the Writers on the Green Line series, facilitated by Naomi Ayala.   (Writers on the Green Line is another DC poetry group.  Its leader is Elizabeth Bruce whose flash fiction you've read here.)

Photograph by ctj71081

Steve K. faced in a totally different direction from the usual north, east, south, and west:

Progress

Gaia tilts at solar windmills

Cancer and Capricorn

square dance for a season

spicing life with a solstice poultice

revolutions charge at dawn

hope riding the crescent

reflected radiation

we Spring into Summer

before our Fall into Winter

lessons learned through liquidity

stasis is still - a dirt blanket

where blooms wither

and grass   is kept   to carpet

Bio: Steve would like to thank all the individuals who give him inspiration.

Photograph by AmberAvalona

Gabrielle Grunau's poem reminds me of summer's end.

Missing Hat

The smile was sunshine

from under the pillows

on the sattee of green

wide cat grin over a band 

of blue pale with age.

It smiles from plump cushions

up to me and to its owner

The hat found!

Hurray.

From, under the cushions 

of that sattee, it 

survived a seating

and sleeping. 

to become again

free. Hatted. Protecting.

Pale blue with age

from the sun. 

from the sun.

I'll conclude with my poems from the workshop.  Of course, my first poem was written while I was facing north.

Facing North Again

In September, I am facing north again,
the direction of compasses
pointing towards Canada,
towards the map’s empty spaces
of flatlands and permafrost.

Once I imagined being
beyond where the compass points,
where dirt roads up to the ocean
and the summer sun
take the place of the needle.

Before long I’d learned my limits,
leaving north for scientists.
In my room without a map,
the wall an empty space,
I faced south towards
the city’s haze-blue towers
that I could barely see.

---- Marianne Szlyk

Facing South Again

Further south it is early spring.
The snow falls in the mountains,
blocking the one road through. 
Plum blossoms are far away.
One woman writes a haiku.

I see only the hurricane,
the hang trees,
the heartache
I’ve been taught to see
when I look in this direction.

-- Marianne Szlyk
previously published in Ramingo's Porch

If you are in the DC area, I hope that you will consider attending the DC Poetry Spot.  Its Meetup page is here: https://www.meetup.com/The-DCPoetrySpot/

Recently my husband and I saw Jane Bunnett and Maqueque in concert.  A Canadian artist who reworks Cuban music, she would be a fantastic musician to listen to tonight.

"La Flamenca Maria" kept running through my head for days after the concert: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnAyr2hRYXE

Here they perform "Changui del Guaso" live: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-qnK8FK8tA

This video is from a performance at Nightown in Cleveland: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bM88KR_Cj_I

More Maqueque live!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VoUBz90Sg_E

Enjoy!