Month: June 2008
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Get Rhythm
When Ambassadors Had Rhythm I forgot to mention yesterday that I read this really great article in the Times about the Jazz Ambassadors program, which began around 1956. I don’t know why I was surprised to see the good that comes from music, even if the musicians were being used by the administration to one…
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Bang, bang, bang on the door baby.
I can’t hear you. Also, surfs up. Does everyone have this album? I’ve had this album for a while but sometimes things get lost in my itunes and I forget about them. But seeing as today was one of those lazy Sundays, I spent some time reorganizing my music library, which means that aside from…
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Fits and Starts
When they left the earth we all looked up with binoculars & stared until we didn’t see anything anymore, then we went home & made potatoes & watched it again on TV. Engine blocks aerial, expecting platform. Inertial minding minds, yet not comforted. Hourly backwards verbal, occurrences unclear in relay. Who shook before ripe? Who…
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Wednesday Afternoon Clean Up
Here are the notes that have been taped to the side of my printer at work for mostly likely the last year: 1. “The Blues can’t drive depression clear out of the house, but can drive it into the corners of any room where it’s being played.” -Albert Murray, Jazz Historian 2. “Camp is an…
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Real Folk Blues
Hey Wakeful Predator At night we do the nasty in some other dimension. Our hairs mingle briefly. The entire café was one muddy mess but the back had a garden ceiling and we kept saying how much we liked the light, how the light was just right. It’s a little late now, all of the…
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Caution Horses
Sometimes, looking back, I realize that I knew so much more about what I was doing then without even knowing it. It’s those curious circles, keeping one out but close by. I watch everything without being anything. It’s peculiar because this isn’t waiting. Waiting is the wrong way to think about it I think. Caution…
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My heart is a large box with high sides
Bed-islands float down the dunking river like snails in towering grass, in their deliberate radius I can help you all, gesturing phone-face. Hips cautiously abbreviate full twists, gripping staple handles, the underpants aquarium circles to and from metal boxes, collecting food wrappers and plastic cups. Representational haystack, its embered ends travel to the center We…
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We Sell Ice Here
Listen to what the tattoos that aren’t on my arms are saying Club, club, cub Aught, aught, evermore Lachrymose mountains with headlines on top That wire hanger has fallen over again Conventional smells linger Buttoned collars, buttoned bags The center stomach uncoils and rises She is no Elizabeth He makes the face of a bull.…
No Help for That | Jackie Clark 