By Reed Turchi
On set break he sips
a long island iced tea
& tells me the house kit
sounds like shit & that
the last time…
a long island iced tea
& tells me the house kit
sounds like shit & that
the last time…
Explore Poems: Music
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- By Dean BrowneBrian, I’m still calling you Brian,
it’s raining and Sunday where you gig
now, or it isn’t. I can only… - By Kim OkTranslated By Ryan Choii
Sonorous music for voice— I hear
a short but elegiac,
pained
melody— for long discarded
dreams of a simple… - By Kim Ok울려 나오는 악성의
느리고도 짧은
애닯은 곡조에
나의 사라진 옛 꿈은
그윽하게 살아
내 가슴 아파라.
설움 가득한 악성의
빠르고도 더딘
애닯은 곡조에
뒤숭숭한 그 생각은
고요하… - By Jim Corythis messenger in quicksilver cape
sneaks past speakerbanks the band in mid-tune
his carefully coiffed… - By Jim CoryWhat god does he
pray to, swaying
like that, muttering
orange chords
at the clouds
drifting by
inside his … - By Dan Beachy-QuickI created more loss where I meant to make less.
Created more debt where I meant to make depth.
Created… - By Carole Boston WeatherfordIt was written in the stars:
A child is born.
From that moment on,
I only had eyes for you.
What a … - By Jayne CortezTell me about the good things
you clappin & laughin
Will you remember
or will you forget
Forget about… - By George KalamarasEven the earth dies sometimes
when it is most alive.
Walter Bishop Jr. slaying the keys,
Harold Vick… - By Nicolás GuillénFueron a cazar guitarras,
bajo la luna llena.
Y trajeron ésta,
pálida, fina, esbelta,
ojos de inagotable… - By Nicolás GuillénTranslated By Aaron ColemanThey went out hunting for guitars,
underneath the full moon.
And they brought back her:
pale, fine, lithe… - By Cornelius EadySome folks will tell you the blues is a woman,
Some type of supernatural creature.
My mother would tell… - By Kinsale DrakeGramophones were weapons, swallowing
the dying songs—
voices
are still muted
in the dust bowl
of those English libraries.
But her voice is clear
as the Chattahoochee,
wide and glittering,
breaching the shadows of the Blue Angel.
Oh, winged music,
red-tongued
notes on 55th where
red boys in strange cities once stopped dead
and... - By Pat MoraBuenos dias and hasta lue$o in boardrooms and strategy sessions, Where are your grateful holiday smiles bilinguals? I've given you a voice, let you in
to hear old friends tell old jokes,
Stop flinching, Drink eggnog, Hum alon,
Not carols we hear
whimpering
children too... - By Stella Wongthis is some decomposed music. this
is some double. o great
and terrible pressing! submerged
in the memoriam swamps
I want to catch your thin neck full
bodied breath in the blue
funeral vase, your death
masked. this is like that
satanist music where they
play it backwards. so... - By Michael FrazierJust cause he’s your blood
you can’t expect him to stay.
The wet red of men will abandon a body
if offered the opportunity
of a gash.
This is vampire one-o-one
dude. You think you’re the only one with a phantom
for... - By Michael FrazierI ain’t off-key. I just stepped out the key
so when I return,
you can understand the key a little bit better.
The preacher isn’t the only
teacher. Why hit a note on the head
when I can kill it? You mean to tell me
you... - By Salima RiveraVibrant and throbbing
the beat of his drums
parrots the rhythm
of his vibrating heart.
The sheen of fine sweat
on his face and his hands
reflect back a light
in the glow of the sun.
A tropical jungle dream in his head
where victorious young warriors
return from the... - By Frank Marshall DavisWho named him Yard Bird?
He was a homing pigeon
With no home to fly to
Sky unlimited
Route uncharted
Eagle strong
He scorched his wings
Haunting the heavens
Buzzing the sun
As the feebler fowl
Looked up in awe
But played it safe
In the rambling sky
He lived!
Here he rendezvoused
With freedom
Flashing...