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Tag Archives: the beats go on

And how sweet a story it is

when you  hear Charlie Parker

tell it,

either in records or at sessions,

or at official bits in clubs,

shots in the arm for the wallet,

gleefully he Whistled the

perfect

horn

anyhow, made no difference.

 

Charley Parker, forgive me-

forgive me for not answering your eyes –

for not having made an indication

of that which you can devise –

Charley Parker, pray for me –

pray for me and everybody

in the Nirvanas of your brain

where you hide, indulgent and huge,

no longer Charley Parker

but the secret unsayable name

that carries with it merit

not to be measured from here

to up, down, east, or west –

– Charley Parker, lay the bane,

off me, and every body

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