Hub Bones

December 29, 2008

Freddie’s dead,
dead is.

Amen to this
in jazz
and life
who ground his horn
on the edge.

why do it that way?

March 1, 2007

this may be
your only life –

so why do it
like everyone else?



October 14, 2006

I let down my guard
with Ella, Mel, and Dee Dee –
scat liberation!

In Walked Sid

July 3, 2006

This is a fantasy of the mind,
a song of the heart,
and a reality of the soul.
It is a true story:


the saxophone cries harshly
where is Sid
where is Sid
where has that cat gone?

the piano starts to pound
where is Sid
where is Sid
who will play our song?

for so many years he gave anew
what he had received

never held back a single note
while through the reed he breathed

a reality to be understood
an affirmation
that life was good-

to listen not in the way we are told
but in a way that was rather, bold.

JAZZ was his religion
more than any other
saying in a million ways,
you gotta love your brother.

and as a singer never tires of song
and a bee never tires of flowers

we always dug that special man,
we were so damn glad he was ours.

So when we heard that he was gone
we went blue funk into black

as we began to realize
the cat
ain’t ever
comin’ back…

then imperceptibly at first
before we could hear
or see
a song washed onto this shore of souls
and some bop began to be

we couldn’t help but begin to smile
as the sun began to shine
and everywhere a cat could see
things started lookin’ fine…

then Sid blew out a rainbow of notes
to say everything is cool

out here we’re really cookin’ man
and Charlie Parker’s teachin’ school!


Rooster tie
trim lapel
flat top
be bop
to the station

cool cats
white cats
snap fingers
smoke lingers
all aboard!
we fly

past ghettos
like flipcards
junk yards
no one looks
to see

just wink
don’t think
time to drink