Drawing by Mark Weber
NUANCES
I’ll venture a line, a sort
of speculation, spectacular,
sepulchral, purely a set of
words that caught my earAnd call it an opening gambit
upon which to improvise, or
as we say in jazz: to riffNot to be confused with riffs, those
infamous background taunting phrases
from a Kansas City horn sectionNo, I mean riff in the sense
of taking a joy ride into a subject
and experiencing along the way
all of the conjunctions the words
bring up, surprisinglyPure invention, even then is nearly
impossible given the freight our words
have gather’d over centuries, ghost
meanings that loom behind
the scenes, making languageSuch a deep mountain lake, what
do they call those in Utah? a cirque?
crystal clear lakes in the high
altitudes, dark reflecting a blue sky
or frozen solid, sayAs starchy as the dowager battleship
who decides to sing at table in
a Marx Brothers movieYou wince, you look for
an exit, and there’s a tip-toeing Harpo
showing you the way outMaybe at this point you crumple
the page and toss it
into the fire, decide to put
on Sonny Rollins Lp CONTEMPORARY
LEADERS, which
is loaded with inspiration, maybe
some
of it will rub off?You tinker with some
of the earlier stanzas
realize you didn’t mean “sepulchral,”
my inner ear overshot the word “spectral,”
a word I associate with William S. Burroughs,
same as I associate “ennui” with Henry Miller,
same as I associate hundreds of other
words with the writers who have
worked with them,
though,
“sepulchral” could work, in an
off-handed kind of way, like a tomb
for dead words, words
that hit a dead-end
their meanings will dissolve, various nuances
will be divvied up between 17 other words, new
and old, plunder’d
the English language absorbs
everything in its path (a similar characteristic
of jazz)How many times have I lookt up a word
in the dictionary only to find myself thinking that
the lexicographers missed something, that
there’s a nuance still lurking in
the shadowsAn ancient penumbra surrounding
a word, like fire, or maybe smoke is the more poetic
descriptor?
nuances still lurking in the shadows, cackling
like one of Steve Richmond’s gagaku demonsBUT! Words are still only the
conveyance, not an end in themselves
(unless, you find interest in what the “language poets”
concern themselves with,
and this “concrete poetry” where words are
very much an end in themselves, a fascinating
field of writing, really, but
I have bigger fish to fry — I know, you’re
waiting like e.e. cummings for me to
close this parenthesis, but maybe I’ll just
keep whispering, only if to add a dash of mystery? —
contrariness has a welcome place
in poetryThere are 3 things I can say
about that last stanza:
1) Strunk & White quite correctly advise us
to avoid the word “really”
2) yoga also is not an end in itself, even
as much as it could be, generously
3) this poem is becoming much too longMaybe a 4th comment could be some-
thing I thought about yesterday, chuckling
to myself how incredible Todd Moore is with
short poems: presently, we’re
working on another installment of our
Noir Jazz radio show, and
how Todd can write more poetry in one or two
weeks than most poets can write in a
lifetime, it’s as if he has a
faucet that he turns on
and out comes pure poetry
over-flowing with pathos, narrative, back story,
front story, humor, menace, flower-sniffing dogs, you
name it, he’s got it all going, and all
with a mere twenty words or soAnd then, what about inspiration?
Well, presumably that’s the fuel you run on
and
when it fizzles out, you
stop
or maybe draw funny squiggles on paper
and send them to Klaus to adorn the margins
of this poem
— mark weber – 25jan10
Drawing by Mark Weber
beautiful poem, mark. and you are certainly right about todd moore. i’ve always had great admiration for him.
Absolutely love this one. I am looking forward to the noir show as usual. You and Todd. Always a treat.
Really.
Wow! That’s quite a joy ride, Mark. The dowager that the Marx Brothers riffed on in their best movies was Margaret Dumont. Nice poem.
THE BAR RAG JAZZ RADIO SHOW
playlist KUNM Albuquerque USA
January 28, 2010 noir jazz @ Noon
Host Mark Weber — guest TODD MOORE
1. theme “Joe Friday & Hotfoot Lady”
2. Buddy Morrow “This is the Naked City” 1959
3. Todd “i used to know”
4. Buddy Morrow “Riff Blues” 1959
5. Todd “dynamite”
6. Buddy Morrow “Richard Diamond” 1959
7. Todd “shot”
8. Buddy Morrow “M Squad” 1959
9. Todd “the switchblade”
10. Frank Sinatra “It’s a Lonesome Old Town” 25may58
11. Todd “hold it”
12. Johnny Mandell soundtrack I WANT TO LIVE “Poker Game”
13. Todd “mikey sat on”
14. Todd maybe”
15. J. Mandell w/Gerry Mulligan “Main Title” ibid.
16. Todd “burning”
17. Art Pepper “Winter Moon”
18. Todd “dick’s 22”
19. Bob Belden BLACK DAHLIA “Genesis” 2001 fragments
20. Todd “two ton” & “riley was” & “chino was”
21. Bob Belden “Genesis”
22. Todd “lenny had”
23. Keith Ingham “Don’t Explain” MELLOW BIT OF RHYTHM, 1997
24. Todd “the cops”
25. Todd “it wasn’t”
26. Donald Byrd “Cristo Redentor” 1963
27. Todd “the bet”
28. Dominic Frontiere “Theme to The Outer Limits” 1963
29. Todd “watching” & “largo shifted”
30. Jazz @ Movies Band “This Gun For Hire”
31. Todd “shorty was”
32. more Outer Limits music
33. Todd “four aces”
34. Leith Stevens “Windswept” w/Shorty Rogers Orchestra
35. Todd “out in jimmy’s”
36. Terence Blanchard “Strike Packs Up” CLOCKERS
37. Todd “the only thing”
38. Leith Stevens “Private Blues” w/Shorty Rogers
39. Todd “why is it”
40. Steve Turre “Twilight Dreams” RHYTHM WITHIN
41. Todd “i hate”
42. Buddy Morrow “Highway Patrol” tv theme
43. Todd “sager walked”
44. Mundell Lowe “Naked City”
45. Todd “the radio”
The trick is to get inside without thinking about getting inside, just somehow going there like the door is already open and waiting for you. And, you got there way ahead of everyone else.
5 POEMS FROM the RADIO SHOW
by Todd Moore
sager walked
into little reds
w/a knife
in his back
the bar girl
sd doesn’t
that hurt
shot & a
draft sager
sd little red
came out of
his office
which was
the last booth
in the joint
& sd yr
tracking
blood all
over my floor
sager took
a glock
out of his
coat put it
on the bar &
sd you don’t
mind if i die
here
——————————————-
the bet
was ten
bucks that
sonny cdn’t
stay on
top of
the car
hood for
one city
block while
mick floored
it so when
he hit
the alley
he knew a
deep pot
hole & aimed
straight
for it the
impact
sent sonny
into a long
row of black gar
bage sacks
where a
foot was
sticking out
———————————————–
shot
jimmy the
deuce
for
holding
out little
bill sd
& then
what
rooney
asked
little bill
tasted
his finger
sd
i poured
some
heroin
into his
eyes
——————————————
the radio
was tuned
in to the
jazz show
& bird
was right
in the
middle of
some long
riff when
the guns
went off
& doghouse
frank thought
it was
funny that
he was
standing
in blood
til he
realized
that it
was his
& fell
in it
——————————————-
dynamite
my old man
sd pouring
himself
a shot of
whisky
there’s fire
in this he
sd holding
the glass
up to
the light
fire &
dreams
& murder
& blood
he dipped
a finger
into the
whisky
& marked
my fore
head sd
here’s
to all the
ways that
we burn
ourselves
down