Joshua Michael Stewart
BREAK EVERY STRING
ellen dore watson
jazz langston hughes
michael earl criag
TEN QUESTIONS FOR JOHN ASHBERY
November 2, 2016
JAZZ POETRY #15 YUSEF KOMUNYAKAA
October 25, 2016
JAZZ POETRY #14 AMIRI BARAKA
October 24, 2016
JAZZ POETRY #13--Rebecca Hart Olander
May 17, 2016
JAZZ POETRY #12--Philip Levine
May 16, 2016
Philip Levine: They Feed They Lion
May 15, 2016
Poet, Gary Copeland Liley
January 28, 2015
Autobiography a poem by Michael Earl Craig
July 14, 2014
July 7, 2014
JAZZ POETRY #11-Robert Pinsky
July 2, 2014
HEDGEROW BOOKS TO PUBLISH MY FIRST FULL-LENGTH COLLECTION
February 4, 2014
February 17, 2014
Bix Beiderbecke (1903-1931)
China Boy. Lazy Daddy. Cryin' All Day.
He dreamed he played the notes so slowly that
they hovered in the air above the crowd
and shimmered like a neon sign. But no,
the club stayed dark, trays clattered in the kitchen,
people drank and went on talking. He watched
the smoke drift from a woman's cigarette
and slowly circle up across the room
until the ceiling fan blades chopped it up.
A face, a young girl's face, looked up at him,
the stupid face of small-town innocence.
He smiled her way and wondered who she was.
He looked again and saw the face was his.
He woke up then. His head still hurt from drinking,
Jimmy was driving. Tram was still asleep.
Where were they anyway? Near Davenport?
There was no distance in these open fields--
only time, time marked by a farmhouse
or a barn, a tin-topped silo or a tree,
some momentary silhouette against
the endless, empty fields of snow.
He lit a cigarette and closed his eyes.
The best years of his life! The Boring Twenties.
He watched the morning break across the snow.
Would heaven be as white as Iowa?
© 2013 Joshua Michael Stewart