I am as much as anything
that something which gave me
so many connected
with what could fire
a sunlight characteristic
if quieter this time:
the shortening days
and some savage asides,
but today brings
yet more books
and just as the real summer
we look ahead for better.
I try to find somewhere
of honest appraisal
in the emergence of these days,
so little to utter
without a bit of warmth
yet I am glad
to have this intellectual
independence more reminiscent
of somewhere there was no doubt
and I believe in fully.
It must have been
in the genes
this dappled characteristic
as we will now call it.
[Originally posted January 2013]
Darting and Running
Yesterday I was listening to Pharoah Sanders’ John Coltrane tribute album Crescent With Love and it got me thinking about the first time I heard Coltrane. It was on an LP I got when I was about 15/16 years old, John Coltrane On West 42nd Street, and it was well played at the time so is a little rough if put on the turntable today. I’ve never been able to find a cd copy, and in that ever turning learning curve I now know this is because it isn’t strictly speaking a John Coltrane album – it is a vinyl only collection put out under his name to cash in on his then emerging popularity.
Taken from 1957 recordings with the Wilbur Harden [fluegelhorn] quintet, including on the tracks on the album Tommy Flanagan [piano], Doug Watkins [bass] and Lois Hayes [drums], the record includes the following songs in this order: Side One – Wells Fargo, West 42nd Street, E.F.P.H. [sic]; Side Two – Snuffy, Rhodomagnetics. I am writing this as these and other tracks [19 in all] can be found on cd on the Coltrane Mainstream 1958 Sessions where, for any nerd interest, there is an extra ‘F’ on its third track E.F.F.P.H. [compared with album liner notes, though on the album itself there are both ‘Fs’], and the Side Two tracks on the vinyl are inverted as well as becoming respectively in that inversion tracks four and nine [and you’d have to be intense to want to follow that].
All five tracks are quite conventional and there isn’t an outstanding melody/song, compared with, for example and unfairly, My Favorite Things. Each player gets a solo set and this too is quite formulaic. But I do recall simply loving each Coltrane solo as I still do, inevitably mixing that nostalgic sense of first discovery with the continued appreciation of today. I’m not incisive enough to really discern differences in absolute quality of playing – though it’s hard to make a bass solo soar like Harden’s flugelhorn – but Coltrane’s tenor sax solos do always seem that little bit more adventurous than the others; more on the edge of breaking from the formula and routine. Yet that could be the wishful thinking/hearing of my original joy and the occasional nostalgic revisiting – though listening as I write to final track Snuffy, Coltrane’s solo following Hayes’ piano really does dart out of the starting gate and run much more wildly and entertainingly.
It makes my Top Fifty for all the obvious and right reasons as I hope I have outlined here. As well as my first introduction to Coltrane, it consolidated an incipient interest in jazz, and a fairly traditional form of jazz as well. Whilst I moved on to the more adventurous and avant-garde, I think I had my fix of that already from the prog rock representation of the time.
So delighted to have my List Poem up now at Burning House Press here.
Big thanks to current guest editor Florence for such warm enthusiasm about this and care for presentation, with creative work by Alexandre Cesa [I have kept the image small here so you check out the site – please – to see the larger version].
In addition to that genuine appreciation, I am also pleased because I have always championed list poems: to read from others, to write over the years, and to use in my teaching of creative writing – especially for regular National Poetry Day ideas/resources. I’ve had the pleasure over those years to read so many wonderful list poems from students.
This one is my dedication to its art.
Very pleased to have my poem Recycling at The Poetry Village here today. With thanks to David.
It should be easy enough to find a love poem to post on Valentine’s Day, and of course it is, but I recalled I had an anthology of love poems from years ago – remembering its green cover, and thinking I enjoyed reading it back then – and so it seemed interesting to seek out and find a poem from that nostalgic source.
And I did find it, but what a miserable collection! I’d forgotten how narrow its selection was too: its three main poets T.S. Elliot, D.H. Lawrence and Robert Graves, and then fifteen individual poets ‘Since 1945’. Well, we all know how miserable Lawrence can be, and is, and the fifteen are little better in avoiding the ‘darkness’ and ‘pain’ of love! I note I had got the book in 1973, so aged 19, and perhaps that teenage angst about the misery of love – albeit late – had been the attraction.
It’s not that I felt I needed to post a red roses romantic version of love on Valentine’s Day, but I did think something reasonably upbeat would be sensible. So I got expansive and turned to poet John Hegley, searching for the light and fluffy, and thought his collection Love Cuts would be a probable good resource. ‘Cuts’? You guessed it – back to the metaphors of pain, apart from an opening poem about his first love being a ‘puppet dog’.
But I persevered, and here is another Hegley poem, just so I have fulfilled some part of my ambition for today’s posting: