Past & Present

A new poem about an old subject:

Drinking Bourbon on the Porch at Night

Twist the cap, break
the seal, and pour:
Ice snaps and the world
swirls and ripples like
the whiskey in the glass
as you lift it to your mouth,
the first sip cold
then warm on the back
of your tongue, trickling
down your throat to fuel
the radiant fire in your belly.
Time stops, or—no,
it flows out endless
like the night sky full of
sparkling dead stars.

November 15, 2006

I've added a new music link. Visit WOXY and be sure to check out the Lounge Acts archive for some excellent performance/interviews.

Jazz & Poetry for Friday

Monk!

Sphere
(for Reuben Jackson)

Misterioso? Yes,
like a gray cat
at night jumping
into and out of
a sliver of light
on the sidewalk.
Misterioso, yes, the way
big raindrops hit
a metal roof, pool
and slide down
in spatters and
rivulets.
The way hot oil
jumps and pops
its rhythms
in the skillet.
Yes, misterioso
like a walk in the night
through New York,
New Orleans,
Paris, or your city or
mine when the sounds
and smells and flavors
flow and dance around
you and the feeling is, yes,
misterioso.

I wrote this poem back in the '90s in response to a Monk-themed poem by the very fine D.C. poet Reuben Jackson. I decided to post it after a visit to YouTube where I savored several classic Monk performances. Enjoy some music and poetry this (and every) weekend!