POEM: dust to dust (0)

Posted 29 July, 2010 in Audio Poems, My poems, Poetry

Listen to this poem using the player above.

dust to dust

ours is not to wonder why
though of course we do wonder
why?
because we like you
and when we say we, we are speaking royally
as in screwed blued tattooed
an indelible mark that reminds one –
or more –
of who one is and what one was and why
are such pretensions necessary?
it’s OK to say “me” and “I”
and to cry for spilt milk
ours is both to do AND die
I never understood the “or”
as if the doing could avoid the dying
when all light collapses into the black hole
in the center of it all
nothing can escape
all lights falls as night falls the light falls
as falls Wichita so falls Wichita Falls
and Niagara Falls and Sue falls
if she’s not careful
ours is to do and to die and to wonder
to stumble over coffee tables
on the way to the bathroom
when the rest of the house is sleeping
even our mouse
even the king’s mouse
and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men
will return to ash when their chips are cashed in

POEM: What I Would Give For What We Had (1)

Posted 27 July, 2010 in Audio Poems, Family, My poems, Poetry

What I Would Give For What We Had

In Lenox, Massachusetts, on the picturesque corner
of Main and Housatonic Streets,
is a building with walls made of butter-yellow brick.

Looking up from the sidewalk to the second floor,
you can see the windows
through which my family used to see the world.

There was a drop ceiling in the den that gave way
under the weight of rainwater,
dousing my grandfather as he removed a sodden panel,

standing on a chair to get a better grip, while lightning
lit the windows of the pharmacy below.
There is a shop that sells art photos and gourmet chocolate

where the garage used to be. “Home again, home again
jiggety jig,” my grandmother would say
every time. Back when she used to ride in the car, back when

she used to have places to go. I am so old I can remember her
driving herself, the modern woman, cigarette
fashionably cradled by elegant fingers, red nails catching

the sun that elsewhere lit trees on our famous hills.
It was only in the leaving that I realized
the loss, only in the black-and-white grandeur of deco

living rooms and dancing at the Crystal Ballroom.
Now I would trade anything for that place,
that time, those days when a street corner was the world
and all I knew was safe and protected within it.

How to write a rejection letter (1)

Posted 19 July, 2010 in Poetry

I’m not saying I know how to do it, I just know this ain’t it:

Dear Jason,

Though your work has been declined by our editors, we thank you for allowing us to consider it.

Sincerely,

The Editors Of A Famous Poetry Review

I don’t mind at all that they rejected me, but I do mind that people who would write a sentence like that rejected me.

POEM: drives (0)

Posted 17 July, 2010 in My poems, Poetry

I was just at the edge of sleep when this tiny little poem floated through.

drives

the purple bitterness
drives the little nothing
to death

Another poem published! (0)

Posted 16 July, 2010 in My poems, Poetry, Politics & Activism

My poem “deepwater horizon” was published yesterday in State of Emergency: Chicago Poets Address The Gulf Crisis. You can read it here.

AUDIO: The Poets Jazz Trio Live At The Social Justice Center (2)

Posted 15 July, 2010 in Audio Poems, Jazz, Music, My poems, Poetry

Listen to the show using the player above.

More photos:

I had the pleasure tonight of performing a featured poetry set with the Poets Jazz Trio — poet Dan Wilcox on saxophone and percussion, poet Tom Corrado on bass, and me reading my poems and playing saxophone and percussion. We played as part of the Dan’s Third Thursday Poetry Series at the Social Justice Center in Albany. Many fine poets came out for the open mic and it was a joy to see them all. In this post, you’ll find photos from the event taken by poet Alan Catlin, along with an audio recording of the set that you can listen to with the player at the top of this post.

Thanks to Dan and Tom, and to Jason Parker of oneworkingmusician.com for his transcription assistance.

Tonight’s show was dedicated to the late jazz organist Gene Ludwig and to his wife, Pattye.

Gene Ludwig, 1937-2010 (0)

Posted 15 July, 2010 in Jazz, Music, My poems, Obits, Poetry

Organist Gene Ludwig passed away yesterday, July 14, 2010. I didn’t know him well, but he was a guest on The Jazz Session in August, 2009, and we spoke several times in person and by phone and email. Gene and his wife Pattye were extremely kind to me and to everyone with whom I saw them interact, particularly during Gene’s performance last year in Schenectady, NY. My thoughts are with Pattye and with their families at this time.

Gene’s Schenectady gig inspired a poem that appears in my book, Unexpected Sunlight. You can read the poem here at jasoncrane.org.

POEM: Umbrella (4)

Posted 14 July, 2010 in Audio Poems, My poems, Poetry

Listen to this poem using the player above.

Umbrella

I’m bringing my umbrella in case it rains
I’m writing this poem in case it doesn’t

Last night you were out when I called
You’re often out these days, somewhere

I’d never noticed how empty a room could sound
Never wondered where these pans go

Sometimes I stand in the kitchen waiting for your voice
To tell me what to do next, who to be

Then the phone rings, full of hope, but it’s a bill collector
Looking for me to pay what’s owed

Everyone is looking for their due
But my cupboards are bare, my reserves are empty

And most of the time it’s raining
And I’ve forgotten my umbrella

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