I went to Jazz Standard tonight to see Ben Allison’s band with Michael Blake, Steve Cardenas, Jason Lindner and Rudy Royston. I wrote this poem during the show, inspired by things in the club, phrases I heard, song titles and my owned fevered imagination. The first quotation in the poem was said from the stage by Michael Blake.
new york basement blues
1.
grab your jazz hat
meet me in the bent-note basement
Jackie’s back of the bar
sloshing the occasional beer
on the tongue-colored tile
the Dutch couple near the stage
look trapped, unsure
told, perhaps, that this would be
something else
(close your eyes, dear,
and think of Holland)
2.
there was a monk on San Juan Hill
who could tell your fortune
in two bars of three
he could stop on a dime:
and give you nonsense and change
“you and me baby†he’d say
“let’s start our own country
and nobody will comeâ€
(he had a sign in his window / it said:
MY BOSS IS KAREN CARPENTER)
3.
later, as the sleepy-eyed theater boys
slowly regain their senses
a sidewalk prophet in plaid and denim
hands us a poem by William Blake
on which he’s drawn a caricature
of Barrack Obama
hugging Margaret Thatcher
“April is the cruelest month†he says
“except for February, which I’ve never likedâ€
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