Improvijazzation Nation poetry - Issue # 72
CALL for SUBMISSIONS!!!
ALL artists! I am very, VERY happy to announce that IMPROVIJAZZATION NATION is ACCEPTING SUBMISSIONS again. I have been granted a (possibly long-term) stay of execution for my trip to Iraq. I will still be traveling all over the U.S., so new issues may be a little less timely, but (as always), we will review your materials as soon as possible after we receive them. Look at the guidelines for submission below, please:
MUSIC: All formats accepted. Snail mail to: Zzaj Productions, c/o Dick Metcalf, 5308 65th Avenue, Lacey, WA 98513 The only criteria for music you submit is that it MUST HAVE high performance energy... if you submit lacklustre material, it will be reviewed accordingly
POETRY: Poems are accepted for publication ONLY via e-mail. Poems submitted in any other fashion will NOT be published. Poetry that includes some reference to music is granted first priority for publication.
BOOKS: We will review some books; books about music are PREFERRED. We will NOT return any books submitted for review. Snail them to the address listed above for MUSIC.
DIY Announcements: We will post your (e-mailed) ad about DIY projects, regardless of genre or medium... HOWEVER, this is ONLY for INDEPENDENTS... if you are a corporation, don't even BOTHER sending stuff... it will be marked and reported as SPAM!
Well, we are very happy to announce that we had several POEMS submitted this time 'round from our friend Rochelle Hope Mehr, as well as a new poet friend, Golda Solomon, so the "poetry" pages can come alive again!
Poets - SUBMIT your poems via e-mail to:
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I caught the blues like an Indian summer head cold. A
twelve year old princess sitting at the window, elbows
leaning on the sooty sill listening for the screech of the
subway. That late night sound. You won't be walking
up Nostrand Avenue coming home anymore. There's
something about a girl's father that frames her life.
Hear the train a callin' whoo-ee
… the blues in the night
As quick as the crack of Jackie Robinson's bat hitting
a homerun in Ebbet's Field, my daddy was gone. Jeffers
Funeral Home, Empire Blvd. did the service. I listened
to ball games on the Emerson radio, followed the World Series
in his memory. He died before he could warn me about men.
Nipples pushing against a white undershirt, I learned the
Lindy Hop, polished scuffed brown and white saddle shoes
and looked for princes who might smell like my daddy.
Hear the lonesome whistle blowin' cross the trestle, whoo-ee
… the blues in the night
I married and divorced a boy who worked summers for
the railroad. Go back in years to find myself.
Treasure his silver pocket watch, tarnished chain.
That special day, Sunday matinee, the Roxy Theatre.
us in the last rows in the balcony.
Now the rain's a fallin', hear the train a callin' whoo-ee
… the blues in the night
Golda Solomon, http://cdbaby.com/cd/gsolomon1
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Duke's dynasty reigns
pens sensual courtly jazz
Seduction complete
Notes, embroidered courtesans
blush-anticipate his touch.
Silk knots. Black beige tan
Sacred threads tease needle's eye
Rejoice. Come Sunday
sophisticated ladies
swoon give witness. Testify
Golda Solomon, http://cdbaby.com/cd/gsolomon1
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The first time I heard Sheila Jordan's voice
Some gay club in the Village
or was Tuesday night gay night
Tiny Tim, his curls, his ukulele
Sheila easing her instrument
Up over and under and onto perfect notes
Gigs haven't changed much
It's still about dues paying and "the man"
Smoke-filled clubs
Vodka on the rocks
2 drops of vermouth only please
What's a nice girl like you doing in this neighborhood
Hey, if anyone gets in your cab
And wants to hear New York jazz,
Bring them here to the Bowery
Or to Hudson near Spring
The Half Note
Then to Wells Uptown
Fried chicken and waffles
Scotch with milk
Sure it's safe
That cavernous Village Gate
Monday was always Latin Nite
But it was the Five Spot
The Five Spot
My weeknite hang
My routine
An after work nap
Dressed and out by midnight
Ratners on 2nd Avenue at 4 a.m.
Work the next A.M. at 8
That last night on the Bowery
The move to St. Mark's Place
Bobby Timmons "dat dared" on the keyboard
Chessboard set up and ready Mal Waldron, checkmate
Musicians, Knights holding court at their round table
Narrow slice of light across the worn floor when
the bathroom door opened and closed
Listenin' to Sir Hanna rattle those ivory's with Bach riffs
The aroma of Chan's rice
Farewell cake for Eric Dolphy
"Later" inscribed in chocolate buttercream script
Mingus' bass plunking commands
Weekends were for tourists only then
Maybe I'd grab the end of the last set on a
lonely Friday or Saturday
I crocheted a floor length cobalt blue skirt
Listening to Chico Hamilton and Charles Lloyd
Those two notes from Forest Flower still echo
High and true
Cal Newborn's sweet guitar
Sundays walkin' around the Jazz Gallery with Roland
Before he was Rasaan
He knew my laugh
Golda's in the house
Who knew we were witness to a history
We were just out listenin'
Finger poppin' to the sounds we needed like a fix
The Poet Laureate Billy Collins remembers the taste
and price of beer at the Five Spot.
I remember Joe and Iggy Termini
The notes the cash register played
And that little dance Monk did.
Golda Solomon, http://cdbaby.com/cd/gsolomon1
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Oval swirls and curlicues of letters
No upper case swoops intimidating
Looming over this lower case innocent
Oval swirls and curlicues of letters
Monk's fingers, fat stubby crayons on keys
Looming over this lower case innocent
His primal notes in primary colors
Monk's fingers, fat stubby crayons on keys
Bright moments of sharps and bitter flats
His primal notes in primary colors
Simple to the ear - balm for my Gilead
Bright moments of sharps and bitter flats
Brown strong hands cover my baby ones
Simple to the ear - balm for my Gilead
In your notes I hear my childhood
Brown strong hands cover my baby ones
Dissonant chords alter my penmanship
In your notes I hear my childhood
A writing bump forms on the inside of my finger
Dissonant chords alter my penmanship
No uppercase swoops intimidating
A writing bump forms on my finger
What if life were orderly like good penmanship
Golda Solomon, http://cdbaby.com/cd/gsolomon1
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