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Paul r. Harding
Konch Magazine, poetry submission May 2014
Poem titles:
Bassline
Evening Gown
Fellini Sees
Pulse
Cared To
They Tried to Kill Me Yesterday
Johnny Hodges
Books of poetry include Excerpts of Lamentation & Evidence of Starlite (Aurius Un., 1993) and Hot Mustard & Lay Me Down (En Theos Press, 2003). Poems published in Transition, Coon Bidness, Berkeley Poetry Review, Raven Chronicles, Earshot Jazz. Manuscripts of early poetry housed in both the Gwendolyn Brooks Papers at the Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley, and the Derek Walcott Collection at the Alma Jordan Library, University of West Indies. Awarded Philip Whalen Memorial Grant and Edith K. Draham Scholarship for Fiction. Performed ‘Spoken Music’ alongside legendary musicians Charles Gayle, Gary Bartz, Ravi Coltrane, Michael Bisio, Burnt Sugar Arkestra Chamber, and other renowned musicians. Founded Children’s University as Urban League of Metropolitan Seattle Education Director in 2002, and served as Earshot Board of Directors President 2008-2009. Currently teaches for the Liberty LEADS program at Bank Street College of Education, and resides in Bronx, New York.
Bassline
a hard thing when you want the thing to be right.
babycrawl down the hallway, tune in
natural scale, re-invent mouth, river all
mountain all over again. creak
backporch rocking chair- a hard thing.
sydney bechet grew up and fell in love.
a hard thing when it feels that good you
become
the bassline.
a big beautiful thing when it’s 5 am
bassline
picking cotton down the row at 7
but you don’t bent over back what time
it is toning coleman hawkins’ mind.
a
hard thing right down the middle
a hard thing when you are thinking about
love about how hard God swung. a
hard thing in Son House’s stomp. hard
to hold the whole note long as patiently
while mama by the window ate
green grapes
bassline.
hard to fit in watching her spit the pits
poems making sound worth every mistake
every moving cell imperfectly waiting
in such a clarinet you know when
jimmy hamilton meets eric dolphy- a
hard way to stop and care long enough
for rhythm to make it to the next
underground station railroad
reginald workman
bassline.
Evening Gown
zipped up the silverfish back
a forlorn mood playing ping-
pong with the moon and mars
you patiently waited along
with the brittle stars
long ago
down the stairs of all my hope stepped
something soulful lyrical, aside
from dark satin provoked
if i think about your face
sapphire necklace pin around
your nocturnal nervous glow
ready as the milky way enter
anxious for the hour late to
the ball, suspense as ironic
any western ceremonial, pre-
cious gems and silk decorum
to be announced, entitled, acclaimed,
crowned power some-
thing black aside from africa
behind tophat and tails
if i think about their grandfathers
human cargo orchestra
the ballroom floor across
in bluenote love songs wore,
embraced dancing slower
than slowly, not meant to be
so long
all the way into the far cry of
wound playing russian roulette
with venus and the moon
something soulful, lyrically took
stairsteps of hope down
-asked you to wait for me at the coat-check room
stood outside just checkin’ out the brittle stars
you were all nocturne in
iridescent evening gown.
Fellini Sees
never dreamed past
ceased following
before the silence
realities film emoted
heaven blacked and white-d
un-
foreseeable
endlessly sighted
borderless as ocean
of hell if he knew
Butterfly McQueen
through genius notion.
Pulse
birds eat garden seeds
nana safe gray country eyes
kitchen sink tolerant potholders
open hot oven door around
to one side impulse
saxophone back alley voice
with Bessie the dog.
nana safe where no one bothers
jump game pavement painted circles
cantaloupe sliced jiggles mandarin
apple two bananas in a bowl
nana hummed from the Hit Parade
mastered spoon flour yeast eggs
black birds ignored the white rags
around and around impulse
stirring ‘til firm temperament
fatback b-flat down the alley
other side of the kitchen table
cadence peeling nana played;
safe old roots family faith
pulse rather than rule.
bessie behind the beat found
still beating amazing dark eyes
levee work hands marry cameo
skin before sea-gray humming
elbows kneaded dough. little anthony &
the imperials sang “Goin’ Outta My Head”
on the kitchen radio.
Cared To
too boring to
apathetic ally aware
totter wittier care
moral clause contract
integration soda
fountains schools
public accommodations
painfully withstand
adoringly care; sub-
liminal truest violence
cultural mores lauds
sound directors reap
special effects 3-d lore
even republic pictures
boris karloff door creaks
Have Gun Will Travel
bonanza the rifleman
paradoxical plays moral
potboiler electronic burner
computer deleted sorrow
dumas eyebrow page turner
were bread and apples
lover letter hours.
Tried To Kill Me Yesterday
they tried to with cute TV
commercial kids in big bright
yellow kitchens not unlike they
Gone With The Wind(ed) me.
from black Friday devil food’s
caked me. more than one Alamo
movie tried to kill us while
Mr. Clean made history spotless.
disney storyboarded Song of the
South me after thurgood of The
Supreme, jackie of The Dodgers
tried to kill the paul robeson in me.
nat king cole could not find a sponsor
to save my show. they
tried to kill me.
tried to kill me yesterday.
they tried to robert smalls out of me.
they tried to ida b. wells out of me.
they even tried to tell me they understood
how I felt after they sold my mother- after
took the drum and the book away to destroy
me- industrialize black hat villain im-
perialize, blackmail me. they
tried to kill my ancestors with
blackface and the king of swing.
tried to jim crow, atom bomb,
and poppy seed me. they
tried-
tried to kill me with conked hair
and sharecropping interest rates.
they tried to kill me yesterday
they tried to kill me yesterday
they tried to kill us with
opportunities in traditional urban
league naacp poverty pimp agencies
and if the penal system failed to ex-
terminate me then supersonic military
boot camps will train me to kill my
brother and sister and self. yes,
they
tried to sterilize my senses right under
our noses. steroids and preservatives
rush me like a microwave dinner
in urban renewal reservations.
they
tried to kill me yesterday in
whirlwind uncanny slam dunks
in slave name autographed. they
tried to firestone rubber tree
plantation me. ultimately
they dow jones shares
saturate me. they
tried to
kill me yesterday
kill and before any
approaching army
or drones strike
stealth sped lies
rice fields villages burned
in a mother’s cry
Libya Florida Yemen children die
yesterday and tomorrow they 3D
genocide everyday me. anyway
they can me in
commodities of suicide
thrill and distract
profit from genocide
me. they- oh
they tried to kill me
they tried to kill me
they tried to kill me yesterday.
Johnny Hodges
personal sound,
long repetitive edges
flatted perfectly round
egg yolk clean
future bird human
key high
clusters shining pour
off rhythm’s romantic little
rabbithole riff fingerings
soul shift work
hands hold too close
too honest not to hurt
less words than worlds
console alto deeply bends
tomorrow sunnyside
saxophone surly penny
colored rabbit-eared steps
up to the microphone
golden vertical personal
beautiful influential tone.