Poems for Reuben Jackson.

Here are two poems that I wrote over the years that are dedicated to my friend and fellow poet Reuben Jackson. His birthday—the first since his passing—is in a few days. There are a ton of DC references in these poems and it might also be helpful to know that Reuben often used two characters-named Amir & Kelly—as personas in his poems. 

AN IDEA OF IMPROVISATION

AS AN ELEGY IN THE FINE PRINT

ON A BOTTLE
(for Reuben Jackson)

Outside Kogod's Liquors,
you feel a little shamrock

as you encounter

two Butches—
Jackson & Warren—
sipping from 

a Circle of Fifths.

It’s not easy being green,

even if your nickname is Petey.

A barely upright bass 

& a worn djembe
lean to take measure 

of the deepness 

of evening shadows.
A bumblebee sun

turns to tumble down

while you wonder

if the bottle’s label

is a mere emerald

or kelly green?

AN IDEA OF IMPROVISATION 

AS A BLACK AND TAN FANTASY

(For Reuben Jackson)

Riffing off Baraka you lament

“Nobody swings anymore.”

And who else swung like a 20 lb. sledge

or swifter than a belly dancer's hips?

Swung steady as Pops on the porch at night

or the well-oiled hinge of a garden gate?

Swung easily as Ella from a knotty limb

or a bridge of rope in a mountain breeze.

Maybe “All God’s Chillun got Rhythm”,

but who else swing an orchestra

like a hypnotist’s pocket watch?

Oh Reuben, are you sighing again 

about those humid Harlem nights

when the Duke of the dance floor

swung like a hammock in a hurricane 

with nary a hair out of place?