As Heritage Streams Through Saxophones and Hi-hats I Contemplate the Breaks

My dad listens to jazz, he really listens, appreciates all the instruments,
nods his head in agreement while the notes play,
grooves with the sharps and flats.
He listens to his jazz, as boom's and bip's re-verb,
Like I read verb from the masters,
study their word choice and tone,
those tones speak to him.
It took me years to discover what it was in his jazz that acceded to my fathers mood.

Those songs that go on too long,
pauses too pregnant with forced emphasis,
like those poems I never finished.
The ones too poetic to mean anything,
phrases phrased to rhyme for rhyme,
a series of
one,
word,
lines,
that stream of words that run on unchecked by comma or semicolon simply to comply with the act of insurrection that all poems should be because poets are rebellious
It's those songs he rejected, skiped over,
didn't mention in his monthly "you should hear."

As I sit and listen to his music, I mean really listen,
I hear those C's, D's, and E flats.
I note the notes that fall, and the ones that don't,
realizing that what my father nods in agreement to,
is how the lines
break.

Ms. Kitt

Many would not consider her a Legend, and many don't even know who she is, or was, but what she was, was legendary. I mean, the first black superhero, or super-vilain rather. Ms. Kitt played Cat Woman in the Original Batman TV series that began in the 60's. I mean she was cool, sexy, intreaging exotic, made every man melt, even if they couldn't admit it to their mainstream white friends around the water cooler the next morning.

Obviously I wasn't around in the 60's and the only thing I know about that Batman series is the reruns that I was able to catch on TV-Land as a pre-teen. I found it to be lame.... I mean really lame, with the huge POW's and BAMMMMM's that would pop up on the screen when the fighting began; the very strange, and close, relationship between the men in tights, Batman and Robin; and all of the "Holy rusted metal, Batman," and "Gee wizz! Here they come!" that came out of the very slack dialogue. But the one thing I remember is that Cat Woman always got away, and always had those Heroes wrapped around her little finger... one word... cool.

But at the time of those re-runs Ms. Kitt was just a lightskined black chick in a mask no face for me, just a voice. Then I saw Boomerang. Again a movie that is under most people's radar, but in the Black Cinema circuit it is a classic. Staring Eddie Murphy, Robin Givens, Halle Berry, and of course Ms. Kitt as Lady Eloise... again she was cool, confident, sexy, even as the aging matriarch, and semi-sexual predator... but she was hilarious. This is the Eartha that I learned to love, watching her in comedic roles, even as the millionaire heiress on Living Single... cool.

Now I'm not claiming to be the biggest fan, or to have her albums, but I do respect the hustle. She was awesome, killing the game on the stage (Paris, Broadway, Off-Broadway, and on tour as a musical artist), and screen (TV and Movies). I mean we are talking about a 70 year old woman who could still do a one handed hand-stand... cool.

So Miss Eartha Kitt you will be missed, well at least by me, and I will be spending the next month renting her movies and downloading her music. I'm going to let her go out with a bang, by gaining at least one more serious admirer, and maybe, just maybe I can learn some of that sexy that came so easy to her, if I can get that down, then maybe I can be cool too.

The Morning After (or November 5th)

In bed

- satisfied

- and exhausted

I lay,

with smile

completely unable

- and unknowing

of how to voice

new thoughts

New answers that went

- unquestioned

In the

days

weeks

months

Before this morning.