All that Jazz.

Poem: "In memory of George Lewis, Great Jazzman" by Lou Lipsitz from
Seeking the Hook: New & Selected Poems. 짤 Signal Books. Reprinted with
permission.

In memory of George Lewis, Great Jazzman

1

Man is the animal that knows
the clarinet

makes his living
on the docks, a stevedore,
110 lbs., carrying what loads
he can

the Depression comes along,
his teeth rot, no money, and
he has to accept silence

2

Thirteen years
later
they put the instrument
back together
with rubber bands
bought him
new teeth
and then he began

----------I----C----E
------E-------------------I
----C----------------------C
---I-------------------------E
----C---------------------C
------E------------------I
----------I----C----E
--C------------------------C

-----R------------------R

--------E------------E

-----------A------A

-------------M-M


--------------E-----R----------------------------------A-----V
--------V------------------T--------------------W------------------E
-O--------------------------------H-----
E-----------------------------------S


--M---------------------------------------T
---Y-------------------------------------I
-----B---------------------------------N
-------U-------------------------------I
---------C---------------------------E
-----------K------------------------L
-------------E---------------------O
---------------T'-----------------H
-----------------S-G-O-T----A



One song they say

was pure
uninhibited joy
words
cannot tell you

survived so long
in those empty jaws

3

He lived and died
there.
Had a New Orleans funeral.

Leading the mourners
his old friends' band
trudged
to the cemetery, heads
down, trombones scraping
the ground, slow tones of
"Just a Closer Walk..."
helping to carry
the solemn mud
of their steps.

Graveside,
words said, tears fallen,
they turned
to walk back;
a few beats on the big
drum, then soft plucking
of a banjo string—
in another block
the clarinet wailed
and then suddenly they were
playing
"The Saints..." full blast
and people jumped
and shouted and danced
just as he'd known they would.

4

Alright. There is a frailness
in all our music.
Sometimes we're broken
and it's lost.
Sometimes we forget
for years it's even in us, heads
filled with burdens and smoke.
And sometimes we've held
to it and it's there,
waiting to break out
walking back from the end.