For Larry Roland
I.
If a Boston bassist based in
The Bronx checks out back
in Boston does anyone hear
arrhythmic heart beats in the Big Apple?
If a Boston bassist based in
The Bronx checks out back
in Boston—does anyone feel
Five Borough pulses pulsing slightly off?
If a Boston bassist based in
The Bronx checks out back
in Boston—does anyone see
bass strings attached to electrodes monitoring
Modes in African rhythms of a troubled ticker?
If a Boston bassist based in
The Bronx checks out back
in Boston—does anyone see
if baseline palpitations pulled him from the pocket
to lock it—Without Universal Healthcare For All?
II.
Tall, dark, Liberated Brother—Birth of The
Cool— Señor Blues. Hard Bop—Bebop outta
Bean Town. Kind and Kinda Blue… Autodidact of
standing— Educated educator sho’ nuff ‘bout
keepin’ it real…
Got hip to you the year you showcased—Showed up
and showed out in: solo, duo, trio, quartet, quintet,
sextet settings! String things really ‘bout yo bass. It
was The Year of Larry Roland and
Bass was the place. I teased you ‘bout being
Vision’s Bassist da jour!
Remember you running into packed Parkside Lounge,
undressing your coffee brown bodied companion for Steve
D’s Tribute. Epitome of cool. Eyes closed, caressing slender
neck. Stroking steel strings like lead wires attached to
electrodes along her belly: Monitoring pulse; feel; groove…
Saw you last: Lower Eastside garden spitting poetry, plucking
strings. Properly sending Jaimie off for Saturn runs with Ra…
We wore the masks—2 yrs after red nose, big shoe show making
Amerikkka grate…again—While death squatted and illness wore
out its welcome!
Off to the side we spoke. Brother to brother. You in Jazz Cat
‘bout “health challenges” and “chops.” Did I miss the pickup
for your pain? Your subsonic gutbucket groan—heavy mettle
melody of your moan? Did I not have elephant ears for the dirge
in your
Voice?
You’re the latest in a long, long, long line of Bassists we’ve buried;
Pianists we’ve laid rest; Trumpeters and Drummers we’ve interred—
most having Hard Bop Healthcare/Bebop Bank accounts in this rather
rich Warfare state…
© 2023. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.
Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; BAR's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC. You can Vote for his work at: GoFundMe and PayPal.
…For Brother Glen “When an elder dies, a library burns to the ground…” —African proverb (gender-adjusted) I.
Glen Ford was deeply committed to liberating people everywhere.
Glen Ford’s daughter explains his lifelong commitment to Black people.
Glen Ford followed in the footsteps of another legendary Black journalist.
Black radical analysis was the foundation of Glen Ford's work.
