Saturday, April 29, 2006

p

In memory of George Lewis, Great Jazzman

 by Lou Lipsitz

1

 

Man is the animal that knows

the clarinet

 

     makes his living

on the docks, a stevedore,

110 lbs., carrying what loads

he can

 

the Depression comes along,

his teeth rot, no money, and

he has to accept silence

 

2

 

Thirteen years

later

     they put the instrument

back together

     with rubber bands

bought him

new teeth

     and then he began

 

          I    C    E

       E               I

     C                   C

   I                       E

     C                   C

       E                I

          I    C    E

  C-------------------C

 

     R              R

 

        E          E

 

           A      A

 

             M  M

 

              E    R                        A    V

       V                T              W              E

 O                           H    E                        S

 

  M------------------------------T

   Y                            I

    B                          N

     U                        I

      C                      E

       K                    L

        E                  O

         T'               H

          S G O T       A

 

One song they say

 

     was pure

uninhibited joy

words

     cannot tell you

 

     survived so long

in those empty jaws

 

3

 

He lived and died

there.

Had a New Orleans funeral.

 

Leading the mourners

his old friends' band

trudged

     to the cemetery, heads

down, trombones scraping

the ground, slow tones of

"Just a Closer Walk..."

helping to carry

     the solemn mud

of their steps.

 

Graveside,

     words said, tears fallen,

they turned

     to walk back;

a few beats on the big

drum, then soft plucking

of a banjo string--

     in another block

the clarinet wailed

and then suddenly they were

playing

     "The Saints..." full blast

and people jumped

and shouted and danced

just as he'd known they would.

 

4

 

Alright.  There is a frailness

in all our music.

Sometimes we're broken

and it's lost.

Sometimes we forget

for years it's even in us, heads

filled with burdens and smoke.

And sometimes we've held

to it and it's there,

waiting to break out

walking back from the end.

 

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