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Bird.

(for Charles Christopher Parker 1920-1955)

You never sought the safety route in swing,
that big band entertainment thing. Oh no,
your alto sax explored new labyrinths,
weird ways to escape containment.

With Dizzy, notes forged disobedient chords,
harmonic flights fuelled by roots in blues:
no civil rights, yet New York heard the starts
and stops; the revolution of bebop.

Before and after night-club spots you'd juice
your arm, renew the glow of smack in veins
attuned to genius. Until that fatal hit
you squeezed tomorrow's jazz into a day.

Well, and here we are, Andrew ~ my dear, positive count'er of my postings . This day arrived later than some may have predicted, and sooner than others wanted. However, for me ~ and for you ~ it arrived right on time !

Aren't I the happy one to have this wonderful poem of yours, here, and to be the first to comment on it ! I believe I may have told you, at some point, how I loved Charlie ["Bird"] Parker's music, and had somewhere between 8 and 10 albums of his, back in the mid-60s [before I'd ever heard Leonard]. I was listening to and buying a lot of jazz at that time and, even though I was nowhere near an 'afficionado,' I could still hear a major, appreciable difference in his music. I became friends with an albino-black, sax-and-trumpet player, called Flip Jackson, who played in a small, narrow club called The Town Bar, in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The raised stage was on the immediate left when you walked in; the bar ran alongside the left, as well, with small tables and some booths on the right; and a narrow, crowded walkway between them and the bar. Bluish-grey smoke filled the air. It had the authentic feel that a jazz club should have. Flip would point out different things about Charlie's music, as well as that of other jazz musicians, whose albums I had. Eventually, he borrowed my albums.....and never returned them . It was the one, default loan of music, where I've always felt they ended up, exactly, where they truly belonged.

Looking at Charlie Parker's life span, I realize now how young he died ....one of the true greats, who changed the 'face' and sound of jazz. Your poem, concise and precise, as always; your final stanza is really potent; and your last line really sums it all up, as it ~ and his life ~ ends. His profound impact on the world in which he thrived, musically; summed up in three verses.....one for each decade of his very brief life. The drugs ~ heroin, in particular ~ so much a part of those jazz years.

It's appropriate that my 5000th would be responding to another excellent one of your poems, this one honouring a phenomenal, ground-breaking musician [one with whom I'm familiar ]; and with a respectful tip of your hat to another great, Gillespie.

I'm glad for our friendship, Andrew . Keep on doing what you do so well . I'm very pleased you haven't disappeared off the radar screen, and continue to stop in, comment, interact, and share. Thank you for being here, Jarkko. Thank you, Leonard, for being behind it all.

Such great company .

Love,
Elizabeth

Dear Lizzy,
You raised several points, all worthy of reply.
Firstly, and this is from the heart, congratulations on your 5000th post . You are way out in front (the Lance Armstrong of the L.C. world!). During that time you have been ridiculed by those of the "fewer is better" persuasion. They miss the point: it is your love of the works of Leonard Cohen and your desire to share that love with as many as possible which drives your keyboard on and on. It's entirely appropriate that Jarkko should ask you permission to place your comments about one of the recent N.Y. events in a permanent slot on the Files. If Jarkko is an ambassador for Leonard, then so is Lizzytysh.
Secondly, yes I recall you mention your love of Charlie Parker's music, though I had my own reasons for writing "Bird". It was originally 14 lines: 3 four-line stanzas and a couplet. I wasn't happy about the couplet and decided to cut it and redraft the third stanza. So it is more "concise" than it would have been. As for "precise", I'm not so sure: the actual circumstances of Charlie Parker's death are more bizarre than those suggested by my poem.
Thirdly, many thanks for your warm comments about "Bird". This brings me to my final point: I have mentioned your detractors, but I want you to know that there are many more, especially those who have met you, who genuinely appreciate the encouragement and vitality of your posts.
Andrew.

Dear Andrew ~

Thank you for your unexpected and lovely response. Thank you for your generalized feedback regarding some whom I met. It was a crazy, high-energy time out of necessity, and frustrating from the aspect that many conversations were either cut short or thwarted out of circumstances beyond anyone's control. The one person whose face keeps appearing to me in that regard is Barbara Mayer from Germany. Even though we sat right next to each other at the registration table, the demands of money-figuring and -collection [as well as handout of materials] precluded any 'real' exchange at all! Even though our paths crossed several more times, those times never really allowed for much beyond a smile or a "Hi." She was just someone I would have loved to just talk with. Likewise, I met Darlene Beem only in the ladies restroom at The Knitting Factory [me preparing to leave and her just coming in]; a quick introduction; and then back to whatever I was doing [no time to talk]! She's someone I've spoken with, at length, in the Chatroom! And, Marianne de Groot [likewise, from the Chatroom, with whom I had spoken about sitting with her, if need be, due to my preference for one-on-one's vs. large groups!] whom I spoke only briefly with, when I approached and introduced myself, at her breakfast table, at the outside cafe ~ I believe, on Friday morning ~ where she was engaged in conversation, and sharing a meal, with Wenslauw (Marco van Os) and Henning and Elke Franz. So, the fact that anyone had anything positive to say about me, at all, is encouraging. Thanks for relaying that good news .

Thank you, of course, on your continued support regarding my posting. That's very kind of you, Andrew. It's an incredible compliment you give me to use the word "ambassador." Thank you . I know 'they' say you're not supposed to mitigate a compliment; just accept it with a gracious "Thank you" and move on. However, to feel fully honest in my response, I keep returning to wanting to say this, so will ~ I feel there are many who fulfill this honorary title. I saw some of them, and met others, while I was at the Event. You could see it in their faces, and hear it in their voices. This Forum, however, has become an integral part of my life; as Leonard's music has been, since 1970. It's a place I simply 'like to be.' Now, having been to New York, I can also relate to Bobbie Chalou's [paraphrased] comment in the official, Event booklet, that the Events have become a way of marking time in her life .

It figures on the poetry issue , the same as if I were trying to talk 'musicianspeak' ~ all I can say is that it ended up as it was 'meant' to be . The precision I speak of doesn't refer to the literal circumstances of Charlie Parker's death, but rather to the way you select your words to say exactly as you want, including many aspects of reality in a single phrase. I enjoy so much the quality of your writing .

Love,
Elizabeth

Dear Lizzy et al.
Since no-one has commented on the actual circumstances of Charlie Parker's death, then I suppose that everybody knows
Andrew.

Why don't you share it, Andrew? I presumed that you'd have, had you wanted to go into it, but that you'd decided [for whatever reason] that you preferred not to.

~ Lizzy

March, 1955:
Charlie Parker was in a hotel room in N.Y. with a "lady-friend", watching T.V.
The programme featured a juggler/comedian. Charlie thought him so hilarious that, in the middle of laughing, he choked on a pretzel he was eating,fell off the sofa, and......died.
Bizarre indeed.
Andrew.