Wednesday, May 23, 2018

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.


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),

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:

Or you can listen to some music by Bird himself.

Tonight I'll post "All the Things You Are":

I'll finish with a live recording of Bird and Monk from 1948:


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