Wrote this immediately after seeing a documentary on the inscrutable, charismatic Lennie Tristano. Inspired, it took less than an hour to write.
A Big Pile Of Junk
Tristano said,
“Let thought come through
All your ten fingers”
(Or whatever number you must use
To play the blues
Or any tune:
“How High The Moon” or Gershwin’s “Soon”)
Your thought a boon
If it’s spontaneous, impromptu.
Corwin says the same thing too.
Not filled with an emotive ardor
But the charter of the instinct
And the intuition: Both as one.
Let musicianship take lead,
And lead your music to your still unripe;
No comic gimmick or alchemic hype.
Your hippest self will be your type,
Reveal inner hope and razzmatazz:
We’ll call it jazz because –
That is what a true jazz is.
Tristano
Called his own piano
“A big pile of junk’
To be transformed by Monk,
Or anyone whose inmost mind
Uses the utmost verve to find
That inner passion,
Do what’s bidden, often hidden
In the inner sanctum of the shrine
We all call talent.
A Big Pile Of Junk 1.22.2019/revised 1.23.2022 Vaguely About Music II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin
Arlene Corwin Poetry 