The Practice of Poetry

The Practice of Poetry

The first poem I ever wrote that was worth a damn — and possibly the only one – grew out of the awfullest cliché most of us will encounter – unrequited love.

Not from an encounter with a skylark or a dead fish or even a dark place along a road in the woods, all circumstances that have produced great poetry. But an ordinary post-adolescent crush.

I was a grad student teaching English at Kansas State University, an unfortunate Saturday morning class. That meant getting up early and walking the dozen or so blocks to campus, thinking what I might say that day about sentences and punctuation and about next week’s assignment.

But this particular Saturday morning my mind was on the previous evening, when myself and two other grad students had driven into Kansas City for a performance of the Jose Greco Flamenco Dance Company.

Poetry was not on my mind. What was on my mind, at least consciously, was the young woman who sat to my left during that performance, and the tall handsome grad student, Hispanic from New Mexico, who sat on her left. I would describe her appearance here, but you really don’t need to know that to guess that we were, at least two of us, in love, and that she had not yet decided which she preferred. Ostensibly, we were just colleagues, friends, little more. And so, the following morning I awoke, dressed, gathered up my papers and headed off to the campus where I was to teach my Saturday class in Freshman English.

It was a grey-bright autumn morning after a night of Kansas rain. The sidewalk was strewn with bright leaves, yellow and pumpkin orange and red, and triple rhythms were still playing in that part of the brain that remembers music. And then I heard, “You there, browneyed with your flashfire smile girl…” I stopped. Where had that come from? I stood, repeating the line to myself. I continued repeating it all the way to the campus, across the commons and into the classroom. I put my books down on the desk and jotted the line in my notebook, called the class to order, checked the roll, and started the day’s lesson. And another line came to me: “Must you always be keeping my heart on the edge of its seat?”

By the time class ended I had completed a stanza, pausing to scribble each line as it came. My poor students must have been wondering what was going on. Shopping list? Notes for Tuesday’s class? Things To Do Today?

Well, in a way, yes.

On the walk back to the house where I was boarding, lines kept coming to me and I kept stopping to scribble them down. When I got back to my room, I sat at my desk and typed the whole thing out. Twice. One copy I carried back up to the campus and slipped through the vent in her locker door, the young woman who had been sitting next to me, watching Jose Greco dance.

I entitled the poem 

 

“To a Young Woman, That She Find A Proper Suitor.”

For the next two days, nothing could touch me. Nothing. I vibrated, I was higher than any high I could imagine.

Did she find the poem Monday, there at the bottom of her locker? Did she read it? Oh, yes. Did she find a proper suitor?  

Apparently. Later that semester she and the tall, handsome grad student who had been sitting on her left at the performance were “pinned,” a kind of preliminary to a formal engagement. Was I crushed? Not so much, in retrospect. I guess that’s a let-down, a disappointing end to this story. But not to me. There were other poems to come, not all to young women. And looking back, that poem was the very best I could do at the time.  Since then, I might have done something better. Then again, maybe not.

But I’ve never since felt better about something I wrote. Never. I have no idea why.       

Journal of the Plague Year (Abridged)

Journal of the Plague Year (Abridged)

[Editor’s Note: Lorna Dee Cervantes contracted Covid a year ago. Her 2020-21 Facebook posts, even heavily abridged here, offer a personal journey through the daily evolving landscape—all with the generous and rebellious spirit of an Earth Mother under assault.]

January 5, 2020

My mother named me, “Lorna Doone” (Dee) so I’d “be brave and able to eat horses if (I) had to!”

I Never understood the part about the horses, but according to recent tests, I can survive a zombie apocalypse.

March 4, 2020

I decided not to go to AWP… I can’t NOT HUG y’all! My event was cancelled today. Anthology not back from printer.

It really is the “no hugging” policy. How does one do that? Some of my young friends were going to booty bump, but I don’t have much booty to bump that much… Maybe carry a sign that says, “Muchos ABRAZOS fuertes!”

The co-director of the AWP resigned last night over their decision to go ahead.

March 9,2020

I am self-quarantined. … couldn’t in good conscience travel. Not from Seattle. Not after being coughed on directly by someone not covering their face inches from my eyes.

 … The bus was in front of the Amazon where a “community transmission” person died. … 19 deaths so far, 18 in my county. Dry cough is the main symptom after slight sore throat and then fever. Deaths occur when it reaches the lower lung.

 

I’m also 60+ plus. I may not survive. But, I’m an existential phenomenologist and an educator.

March 10, 2020

Me, I’m great! Self-quarantine is my default mode… a wannabe Eagle Scout. I’m always prepared.

Got my black beans. Got my brown rice. Got my amaranth. Got my quinoa. Got my oatmeal. Got my flour. Got my broths. Got some vegetables. Got some fruit.

Got my portable 3-in-one, wind-up battery, solar-powered charger, light, blinker am/fm radio, short wave, alarm and compass for when the grid goes down.

Got my sanitizers … aerosol sprays, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, vinegar and vinegar wipes, body wipes for upper and lower, toothpaste …

Got my oranges. Got my cinnamon. Got my slight sore throat…

 

Boo, I don’t got my maple syrup.…

 

Good time to go backpacking…. Like, forever…

 

Bad time to have to rely on public transportation…Got my fold-up, multispeed, custom-built bicycle, with fixing to attach a motor; a good helmet and all the fixings. … It’s a good day to ride. Hokahe!

Italy this morning? 90 deaths a day.

March 11, 2020

Gist of the matter is this …The virus migrates down … to the lower lungs, you die. …  Wash your lungs! Use a few drops of Eucalyptus essential oil in… boiling water. Put a towel over your head. Breathe in the steam through mouth and then nose. Hold for 10 seconds. Repeat until water has cooled. Then gargle with it. As much as you can stand. …

I’ve learned to hold my breath. The steam keeps my lungs clear.

Cook good healthy food and plenty of it. That’s your gold now.

Be a Water Protector. It’s you, and our children’s lives, and their future children. The Ancestors are there, absorbing all our tears. Show some Love and Gratitude to Water; to All, for All.

The only cure for fear is knowledge. When in doubt, research. We are our own “expert.” … A laugh a day keeps the locos away. Be kind. We’re all our own doctors now. …

SHARE FIRST is the economy now. Stock up on medical books, herbal wisdom, DIY. Darwin got it wrong. It’s not survival of the fittest. It’s survival of the most creative.

We Will survive.

The women are smarter.

WWGD? What would gra’ma do?

Feeling blue? HELP SOMEONE.

Art SAVES lives.

Poetry the first time.

 

My go-to homeopathic flu remedy Oscillococcinum … Effective against all strains. Tiny sugar pills …dissolve on the large pores under your tongue … morning noon and night for 3 days. …repeat cycle as needed. Get a bad flu, all wiped out. … Go dancing, symptom-free, in four days. What flu?

Are all those dead—in Italy, New York, Ireland and Kirkland—”fake news?” Not to mention China, which would just grab your ass, kicking and screaming, and weld the doors and windows shut so you wouldn’t go out to have your fun… to infect a couple hundred new victims because you wouldn’t listen to reason.

What’s wrong with you? Show some COMPASSION.

To Someone, let it not be you:

… Mortality rate is going up as virus MUTATES to conditions, it’s that smart. Unlike some humans.

…It eats up your lining of the throat and lungs, along with the fine hairs protecting them, the sweepers, the first line of defense

…What flu or bronchitis ever shut down a whole country?

How healthy are you? I’m pretty fit. I don’t know about my cilia. A HEALTHY 32-year-old male is going to die now, taking care of somebody sick through negligence, because of the cavalier presidential and entitled attitudes surrounding him. …How’s your health insurance? I had a three-week stay in ICU– $150,000+ not counting follow up visits and medications.

 

Stop parroting “fake news.”

It is no longer business as usual. We are in crisis mode. Help someone….It’s fun to do right.

The eye-witness accounts on the GROUND ALL OVER THE WORLD and coming into my 5,000-friend newsfeed, I can’t keep up with all the notifications and ACTUAL NEWS REPORTS… from physicians, staff, hospitals, boards, clinics, morgues…. Regular people crying real, not crocodile, tears over very dead daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, whole sets of grandparents, in one single week. Is it worth it? Fun, that is; I like to have fun. This is not It.

And they ALL HAVE THE SAME SENTENCE as their ending:

“WHY ISN’T ANYONE TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY!”

Don’t you read?

Get over yourself. You’re going to exterminate an entire generation first…including the band members, and their families, who play for our FUN. If my holing up… will save just ONE life, SOMEBODY’S CHILD, I’m all in!

You don’t need to be right. You just need to DO RIGHT, my high school motto.

Pretend it’s your kid, to preserve and protect. …

The Truth is out there. You just gotta poke around…

Show some respect for your Elders. They know more than you.

March 12, 2020

It was a TERRIBLE decision to not cancel the AWP writers conference…. 14,000… sold out…. 40% cancellation and lots of empty bookfair tables. Lots of hugging and kissing in jest. …Everyone traveling, most on public transportation. I knew this was going to blow up big by the time they flew home, to infect their families and communities. Hard not to talk at a writers’ conference, face to face, breathing in each other’s air. 8-12 feet is low end of safe distance. I keep that distance from people when I have to go the ATM… Big enclosed space? Potentially thousands of millions of the virus airborne and contained. Think about it.

I’m not going to say, “I told you so,” but I knew this was going to be very bad for all. Ever since I was geeky girl, I studied different viruses, wanting to be a cellular biologist. I’ve read every plague book and study you can imagine, including HIV.

I need to buy a thermometer. …

First time out today. I’m the only one touching things with wipes. Yogurt places and Chinese restaurants, closed.

…You can … take every caution imaginable…then some dude dry-coughs right in your face in the city bus…

As you age your fine hairs in the respiratory tract decay like an old brush, you have fewer and they don’t move as fast sweeping the crud out.

They’re going to call it:  Old And In The Way Syndrome. OWSy.

Eyes are the WORST … because of the tear ducts, which are like the highway to heaven for any viral infection. … thought about wearing sunglasses but I forgot that day.…

We’re smarter than a virus, which is wily indeed. … this virus “somehow” uses the body’s own immune system to replicate. When you read “somehow” in a medical study, that’s never a good sign.

Oh, yes, Eucalyptus essential oil: after the steam died, I gargled with it. There’s a gag reflex, but good way to coat the palate.

D-3 and vitamin C. … recommended when reports of the virus first came out… EVERYONE is out of ZINC.

 

Bottled water and toilet paper were never on my shopping list. I think it’s an urban myth. Loose stools, however, are one of the early overlooked symptoms of the virus and how it transmits: aerosolized every time someone flushes. In a public bathroom. Think about it.

What is “brain fog”? … It’s one of the symptoms of the COVID-19 Virus.

This afternoon I went to buy medicinal tinctures and hemp milk and a thermometer. On the way there… walked in front of a moving car. … into the store…realized I forgot my purse….went back… only to remember that I forgot the bag of wipes…in my hand. I went back … to the store. Every time I got in line, I got out because I forgot to get something, about 5 times, every time intending to get hemp milk and a thermometer. I got home, lined up my purchases, and realized I forgot Eucalyptus essential oil… So, I went back. I bought Astragalus tincture instead, and hemp milk. I kept forgetting my things after paying, and they had to remind me as I headed off… I got home, washed my hands, and couldn’t find the bag…took almost an hour, couldn’t find it anywhere…decided to go back to the store. I had a vision of it under arm, so I picked up my coat, and there it was folded in the sleeve.

Never did get a thermometer.

…Chest pain: new symptom, like nothing … ever felt before. In the middle of my chest between the sternum and where the ribs start.….

Sweats: I broke out in a sweat. … I’m keeping the heat to 70, sometimes 72. … No fever yet.

Fatigue. …don’t feel like I could walk all the way around the lake, like just 3 days ago. If the band were playing tonight, for free, and I had a ride, I wouldn’t go dancing. Now you know I’m sick. …

March 13, 2020

…I have no health insurance, no primary physician, no money, no credit, and no transportation. …Soon as this hits my lungs, I’m headed to ER for respiratory failure.

The respiratory tract lining is its filet mignon. The lower lungs are its prime Maine Lobster.

“This ain’t no disco. This ain’t no party. This ain’t no fooling around.”

I look on the bright side, I have no loved ones here to risk infecting.

You can’t get it from sharing a sandwich …. You breathe it in, or it enters through eye pores… You can get it walking into the bathroom after someone…has taken a dump…Save your business for home

I live between both ends of the candle. …

It’s time-consuming to self-cure. Takes longer to sit in a … clinic waiting room, or ER loaded with people worse off than you… and risk infecting the caregivers, who don’t have treatment or cure. …

March 16, 2020

Now in the UK. It’s 12 weeks PAST “recovery”… Told you so. 

Research and report. That’s my Crisis Mode. I turn into Ms Spock….

Symptomatic in all the stages. DEFINITELY WORSE AFTER ELDERBERRY!!!

…Works for flu, great. NOT THIS! 

LAUGH-ter is the best MEDICINE. KNOW-ledge is the best DEFENSE.

Positivity wins La RAZA.

 

March 20, 2020

STAY AWAY FROM REFINED SUGAR!

STAY AWAY FROM ELDERBERRY!

STAY AWAY FROM ANY IMMUNE BOOSTERS IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE BEEN EXPOSED TO VIRUS!

… I feel like I’m treating this thing aggressively, and winning…

March 22, 2020

DAY 3: SYMPTOM FREE!!!

Oscillococcinum & Eucalyptus essential oil steam + 4000 mg C!!!

4000-6000 IUs D 3 in 1000 IU drops!

180 mg chelated zinc

Constant hot liquids

Positive attitude

LOTS of laughs

Keep your sense of humor

MUSIC!!!

(Save your local musicians first.

They keep us all alive!)

 

…You feel better a few days after stage One. You want to go out, like dancing. That’s how the suckers get around. Don’t let them.

March 24, 2020

WOW!

I want to clean my kitchen!

Now I know I’m cured!

Day 5: SYMPTOM FREE

Uh…I’ve only not felt like cleaning my kitchen in like, uh, ten months…

But I’m having SO MUCH FUN watching the water twirl down bathroom sink and it’s SO sparkly clean! Kitchen sink, too. …

March 25, 2020

…Not celebrating yet. … my sense of smell and taste … returning….hoping I can still devour whole wedges of oranges. I’m starting to taste sour again.

I cannot begin to describe what it felt like to go from a HEALTHY, energetic and youthful person who could walk 5.6 miles around the lake twice a week to being a weak, old, sick and sweating, palsied woman who couldn’t walk three blocks to the ATM.

Day 6: SYMPTOM FREE!!

Today I had to run an errand. I didn’t run but I walked fast….as usual I passed everyone who wasn’t running… I checked the map: I walked 3.8 miles. Back on track for backpacking / hiking training. (!!)

Cheery.

…a list of my treatment regimen now going around. … a few lines left off…maybe the most important: “Positivity wins The Race” (meaning human) and “NEVER LOSE YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR.”

Hug the Earth in your daily Gratitude Prayer. It will hug you back, and keep you on it. I type these words to you with tears, so like I know a poem is finished, I know these words must be true.

“May you live long and prosper.”

I love you ALL.

May 13, 2020

Empathy is the word of the age. It’s not an economic crisis. What we’re facing today is an empathetic crisis, the consequences of a lack of imagination.

June 18, 2020

I get nervous lately when little mild symptoms come back, like yesterday my fingertips were numb and tingly….that’s why this Illness is so sneaky. You don’t know you have it, then when you do it’s like wading across a reef ankle deep until without warning you’re in the deep water and caught in the rip tide getting washed out to sea. …

July 2, 2020

Our President spoke these words in this order: “I don’t know if you need mandatory because you have many places in the country where people stay very long distance.” 

Meanwhile, college students in Tuscaloosa…infected…are holding Coronavirus parties with others in competition to see who gets it first. 

It’s called herd mentality.

Mad Cow Disease…

July 24, 2020

“Dr. Jean Bousquet, professor of pulmonary medicine at Montpellier University in France, said diet may play a larger role in determining who contracts the virus and how well they fare fighting it off.”

I’m planting cabbage today… a lot of cabbage in slaw and soup and stir fry, and used to drink sour kraut juice daily. …

DON’T SKIP MEALS IF YOU HAVE THE VIRUS.

I’m glad there’s FINALLY something about the role of nutrition and COVID-19.

Since having a child at 40, I learned to pay attention to my cravings and listen to my body. Besides oranges and tangerines, which are not my favorite fruit, soon as I got sick, I was craving asparagus. Good thing it was spring. I eat it at least 3 times a day. Turns out, besides stopping cancer growth and repairing cells and liver damage, it’s an anti-inflammatory agent, and this is an inflammatory disease.

Everyone who has had it says the same thing: It’s like no other illness… not chicken pox, not rheumatic fever, not pneumonia, not tuberculosis, and definitely not “just flu.”Flu, for one, doesn’t make your fingertips numb, or your toes bruised for no reason that hella hurt.

The first stage symptoms are subtle as a mild hangover or allergies or a bad hot dog outside a venue, if you eat such things. (I did that week I was infected.)

July 26, 2020

It’s a strange time & place when your spellcheck knows, “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

Consider I have 5,000 Facebook friends plus followers, most I know, have met, or are actual friends in real life….told my … neighbor, and his maskless guests laughing into my front door as I was trying to enter, I have five friends on Facebook who are already dead from the virus, and so many more “I’m so glad… are alive”

August 3, 2020

Lorna Dee is missing soul to soul communication.

I get it after readings, often with complete strangers…who then become my Facebook friends, and friends. I used to get it between sets and after shows with my dancing buddies, and friends. And this is the longest time between life partners. I always get into deep soul to soul conversations with my significant others; that’s why they’re, um, significant. It’s what’s missing in The Great Pandemic.

September 1, 2020

A fellow COVID-19 survivor with weird lingering symptoms was diagnosed by her doctor with “language fatigue.” Apparently, it’s a thing.

I’m beginning to wonder if I have “language fatigue.” I remember a friend after a traumatic brain injury being told “not to think.” How do you do that? If you’re a thinker by trade? I haven’t been able to read… for months now. Yeah, it makes me tired just to think of it. I read the news…. I read snippets from Facebook, but prefer to listen to music over readings…

I can’t read my own poetry, or other people’s. Not like before, not whole books… It’s not that I can’t…. It’s that I don’t feel like it. Language fatigue.

… Actually, I feel that with this latest brush against my own mortality, I’m writing more and better…writing poetry is an involuntary action. Or as I often like to say, “I’m not in charge. The Muse has a mind of Her own.” Reading poetry on the page is voluntary.

I can write poetry, but I can’t read it, not for longer than snippets.

Poets have to poem…

January 1, 2021

Not sure what I’m going to do with my usual rolled over NY resolution: Have more sex…

All books and no play make Lorna Dee… (nevermind)

My favorite resolution because it’s an easy one to keep.

This is the longest I’ve ever been single…

Try it. You’ll like it.

January 2, 2021

Told you so… 

One million cases in NY alone: “More than a third of the state’s total cases were reported in December as cold weather nudged people indoors, holidays increased social gatherings and residents tired of restrictions. On the first day of 2021, the U.S. surpassed 20 million Covid-19 cases — twice as many as the second-ranking nation, India.”

 

Stay home. Do your art. Play with your kids.

May 4, 2021

Get vaccinated. Trust a virus less than anything. If there’s an alien on Earth, it’s a virus. They don’t feck around, and neither should we.

May 13, 2021

I actually don’t mind wearing a mask… I never was attached to my face. Besides, “I think it makes me look like Zorro,” said Tonto.

CDC just announced all vaccinated people don’t have to wear masks….as if SOME people don’t lie.

May 25, 2021

Lorna Dee is feeling good to be feeling back to 100% normal. Meaning, she’s just weird enough & back to not acting her age. …

May 28, 2021

In a week I’ll be huggable again…

“HAVE POEMS. WILL TRAVEL.”

~ me

Jam Session —  History Rhymes:  Black Lives Lost, PT. 4

Jam Session — History Rhymes: Black Lives Lost, PT. 4

When we asked Cornelius Eady about Black History Month, he responded by sending us a cycle of songs / poems. Eight in all, Eady named the cycle “History Rhymes,” after the famous Mark Twain quote, “History never repeats itself, but it rhymes.”

Performed by the Cornelius Eady Trio, this cycle commemorates the injustices and wrongful deaths of many Black Americans. Riff has shared CE Trio’s songs dedicated to Emmett Till, Korynn Gaines, Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, many others unfairly incarcerated, and millions ignored and forgotten by America looking the other way. Today’s post, “Turpentine,” looks at the many folks killed during the Tulsa Massacre of 1921 along “Black Wall Street.” Learn more here.

“In addition to being a major poet, Eady is among the most prolific and important contemporary American songwriters. Whether he is working with his eponymous trio, featuring top-rate guitarists Charlie Rauh and Lisa Liu, or accompanying himself on guitar or dulcimer, Eady is incessantly writing memorable songs that are tailored to our troubling times.” —  John Freeman, The Museum of Americana.

Cornelius Eady TRIO

National Book Award-winner and Pulitzer Prize-nominated poet Cornelius Eady has set his poetry to song with the Cornelius Eady Trio. Eady’s songs tell the story of passing time, the Black-American experience and the Blues in the style of Folk & Americana music. Guitarists Charlie Rauh and Lisa Liu join Eady to create layered and graceful arrangements to bolster Eady’s adept craftsmanship as a songwriter, lyricist, and poet. Cornelius Eady Trio has performed at Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery, AWP Conference, Peabody Essex Museum, and Hill-Stead Museum and recorded at Sun Studio in Memphis, TN.

Cornelius Eady so well captures the spirit of RIFF–and especially the topic of “Jam Session”–taking us beyond poetry, beyond music, and into that hallowed place of meaning.

(Eady’s music is) in the vein of Taj Mahal when he’s at his metaphysical best, Keb’ Mo’ when he’s most squarely located at the crossroads of tradition and innovation, or Eric Bibb when he’s at his most soulfully transcendent.” — Joe Francis Doerr

Says Cornelius Eady:

“on old maps, all of the places left unexplored were often marked as ‘parts unknown’ (or ‘here be monsters’). A song for a year [2020] where the term ‘Never seen this before’ has been said far too often…”

Turpentine

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

 

I could see planes
Circling in mid-air
They hummed, darted
And dipped low

I could hear something
Falling down like hail
Falling down on the roofs

The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls
The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls

Down East Archer St
The Old Mid-way Hotel
Was burning,
Burning from its top

I saw a dozen planes
Maybe more
Darting here and there
Like a crazy flock of birds

The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls
The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls

The flames rose and
Licked its lips
Black Tulsa
Burned down from the top

Greenwood folks was running
With a hell hound on its trail
Had a bark like a
Tommy gun

The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls
The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls

Here’s a postcard
Of a black corpse on fire
Of a black church
Charred to
Pennies.

Black folk shouldn’t get rich
Shouldn’t talk back
Shouldn’t brush
A white woman’s hand

The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls
The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls

I could see planes
Circling in mid air
I knew too well
Where they came from

I wondered, where is the fire dept ?
Why won’t they let the Red Cross in?
Why are the cops standing
With the mob?

The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls
The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls
I paused and waited
For a chance to run
As flames around me
Belched and roared

The planes kept raining
Greenwood straight to hell
And hell was icy cold.

The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls
The sidewalks were burning
With Turpentine balls.

 

Listen to “turpentine” here.

Twilig(so

parts unknown

 Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

 

Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown
Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown.
Hey

Hide yourself
‘hind the Misery Tree.
Milishy man looking
For you and me.

Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown
Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown.
Hey

Like a poem
That can’t find a rhyme
Like a murder
That ain’t a crime

Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown
Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown.
Hey

President called up his Goons
Said their time
Is coming soon

Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown
Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown.
Hey

Up jumped Karen to
Call the Police
Shoot the protestors
Give ‘em peace

Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown
Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown.
Hey

Hush now, baby,
Hear that sound?
New Jim Crow flying
From Town to town

Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown
Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown.
Hey

Virus come
To sweep you away
Boss man says
That’s OK.

Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown
Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown.
Hey

Meet me by
The misery tree
Wave good bye
To what used to be

Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown
Parts Unknown, People
Parts Unknown.
Hey

 

Listen to “parts unknown” here.

 

Cornelius Eady Trio

Cornelius Eady: Vocal;

Charlie Rauh: Acoustic Guitar & Electric Bass;

Lisa Liu: Electric Piano & Guitar.

Arranged by Rauh & Liu.

“Turpentine” — Engineer & Mix: Tom Gardner.

“Parts Unknown” mixed by Charlie Rau.

 

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady 

Jam Session —  History Rhymes:  Black Lives Lost, PT. 3

Jam Session — History Rhymes: Black Lives Lost, PT. 3

When we asked Cornelius Eady about Black History Month, he responded by sending us a cycle of songs / poems. Eight in all, Eady named the cycle “History Rhymes,” after the famous Mark Twain quote, “History never repeats itself, but it rhymes.”

Performed by the Cornelius Eady Trio, this cycle commemorates the injustices and wrongful deaths of many Black Americans. We have been sharing two a week the entire month of February. This, our third installment, begins with a song dedicated to the memory of Sandra Bland; the second recalls the “scary,” but transformational year of 2020 in America.

“In addition to being a major poet, Eady is among the most prolific and important contemporary American songwriters. Whether he is working with his eponymous trio, featuring top-rate guitarists Charlie Rauh and Lisa Liu, or accompanying himself on guitar or dulcimer, Eady is incessantly writing memorable songs that are tailored to our troubling times.” —  John Freeman, The Museum of Americana.

Cornelius Eady TRIO

National Book Award-winner and Pulitzer Prize-nominated poet Cornelius Eady has set his poetry to song with the Cornelius Eady Trio. Eady’s songs tell the story of passing time, the Black-American experience and the Blues in the style of Folk & Americana music. Guitarists Charlie Rauh and Lisa Liu join Eady to create layered and graceful arrangements to bolster Eady’s adept craftsmanship as a songwriter, lyricist, and poet. Cornelius Eady Trio has performed at Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery, AWP Conference, Peabody Essex Museum, and Hill-Stead Museum and recorded at Sun Studio in Memphis, TN.

Cornelius Eady so well captures the spirit of RIFF–and especially the topic of “Jam Session”–taking us beyond poetry, beyond music, and into that hallowed place of meaning.

(Eady’s music is) in the vein of Taj Mahal when he’s at his metaphysical best, Keb’ Mo’ when he’s most squarely located at the crossroads of tradition and innovation, or Eric Bibb when he’s at his most soulfully transcendent.” — Joe Francis Doerr  

Says Cornelius Eady:

“[Haint is] A re-recording of a single first recorded with Rough Magic. Sandra Bland, a black woman, was stopped for a broken tail light in Texas. She died three days later, hanged in her cell. She was arrested for asking ‘Why should I?’ when the cop ordered her to put out her cigarette while still sitting in her car. Another cop, commenting on the story on a cable news show, said while the story was sad, her arrest was justified, since talking back to the cop proved she was arrogant.”

      Learn more about Sandra Bland here. 

“Walt Whitman was lying on his sick bed in Camden, NJ, and a biographer, about to leave, and noticing this hoped he’d be feeling better soon. Whitman replied, ‘It is clouded now, hopefully, it’ll pass by.’ A good way, I think, to wind up 2020, a very scary year.”

Haint  (TRIO VERSION)

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

 

 

I got this ache in my heart

The state of Texas is my host

I got this hole in my soul

The State of Texas made me a ghost

 

And my ghost howls

Woe

 

Now I’m a wandering spirit

My body swings in my cell

When they cut this poor gal down

Who’ll know how I got here?

 

And my ghost howls

Woe

 

Maybe I died by my own hand

Maybe I died by hands unknown

Maybe I was dead

The moment I talked back

Maybe I was dead

‘fore I was born

 

And my ghost howls

Woe

 

Damn the cop

Who damned my black skin

Damn the judge

Who agreed with him

My name’s Sandra Bland

I should be alive

Sass back in Texas

You commit “suicide”

 

And my ghost howls

Woe.

  

Listen to “Haint” here.

Twilig(so

It’ll Pass By

 Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

 

 “It is clouded now, possibly, it’ll pass by”

                        -Walt Whitman’s last words

                         To biographer Sadakichi Hartmann

 

 

It’s clouded now, but it’ll pass by

All those years

All that blood and tears

It’s clouded now, but it’ll pass by

 

You think you’re down

You’re tougher than the dirt

You think you’re out

You’re stronger than the hurt.

 

You think you’re lost

But your feet’s on the ground

That fog they taught you

Won’t stick around

 

Tried to shoot you down

The buckshot missed your wing

They ain’t got nothing

Can stop the song you sing

 

Hey, America

We’re waiting on you

Say, America

What you gonna do?

 

All those years

All that blood and tears.

 

 

 

Listen to “It’ll Pass by” here.

 

Cornelius Eady Trio

Cornelius Eady: Vocal;

Charlie Rauh: Acoustic Guitar, Electric Bass, Drums, & Percussion;

Lisa Liu: Electric Piano, Electric Organ, Elect & Acoustic Guitar;

Concetta Abbate: Violin.

Arranged by Rauh & Liu.

“Haint” mixed by Charlie Rauh and Lisa Liu. 

Concetta Abbate, String Arrangement.

“It’ll Pass By” mixed by Lisa Liu.

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady 

Jam Session —  History Rhymes:  Black Lives Lost, PT. 2

Jam Session — History Rhymes: Black Lives Lost, PT. 2

When we asked Cornelius Eady about Black History Month, he responded by sending us a cycle of songs / poems. Eight in all, Eady named the cycle “History Rhymes,” after the famous Mark Twain quote, “History never repeats itself, but it rhymes.”

Performed by the Cornelius Eady Trio, this cycle commemorates the injustices and wrongful deaths of many Black Americans. We will share two a week over the month of February. This is our second installment.

“In addition to being a major poet, Eady is among the most prolific and important contemporary American songwriters. Whether he is working with his eponymous trio, featuring top-rate guitarists Charlie Rauh and Lisa Liu, or accompanying himself on guitar or dulcimer, Eady is incessantly writing memorable songs that are tailored to our troubling times.” —  John Freeman, The Museum of Americana.

Cornelius Eady TRIO

National Book Award-winner and Pulitzer Prize-nominated poet Cornelius Eady has set his poetry to song with the Cornelius Eady Trio. Eady’s songs tell the story of passing time, the Black-American experience and the Blues in the style of Folk & Americana music. Guitarists Charlie Rauh and Lisa Liu join Eady to create layered and graceful arrangements to bolster Eady’s adept craftsmanship as a songwriter, lyricist, and poet. Cornelius Eady Trio has performed at Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery, AWP Conference, Peabody Essex Museum, and Hill-Stead Museum and recorded at Sun Studio in Memphis, TN.

Cornelius Eady so well captures the spirit of RIFF–and especially the topic of “Jam Session”–taking us beyond poetry, beyond music, and into that hallowed place of meaning.

(Eady’s music is) in the vein of Taj Mahal when he’s at his metaphysical best, Keb’ Mo’ when he’s most squarely located at the crossroads of tradition and innovation, or Eric Bibb when he’s at his most soulfully transcendent.” — Joe Francis Doerr

Says Cornelius Eady:

“[‘TWILIGHT IS THE HOUR’ is] A re-recording of a song first recorded by my old band, Rough Magic. Soon after Trayvon’s murder I attended a poetry reading in Bryant Park; all the poets who read there had a poem about him, or the world that allowed this to happen. It was dusk, and the slow glow of the mercury lamps reminded me of fireflies . . . “

(Read the tragic story of Trayvon Martin’s shooting here.)

About ‘Razor Blade’: “A song that started out as my version of a prison work song, until we found out Lisa Liu once spent a summer playing keyboards in a funk band . . . “

Twilight Is The Hour

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

 

The lamps in Bryant Park glow like fireflies

Duende floats under the trees.

A group of poets sing the blues

To fill in the space where you ought to be

 

Twilight is the hour of the Motherless Child

Another man gone, gone down that lonesome mile.

Twilight is the hour.

 

There’s a tongue we use to let things go

There’s a song that we shake at danger.

There’s a way to wash a body down,

Even if he’s a stranger.

 

Twilight is the hour of the Motherless Child

Another man gone, gone down that lonesome mile

Twilight is the hour.

 

There are words we use to follow a hearse,

A prayer to un-jumble the mad universe.

The poets breathe Trayvon into the wind.

It could happen to you like it happened to him.

 

 It could happen to you like it happened to him.

Listen to “Twilight is the hour” here.

Twilig(so

Razor Blade 

 Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

 

Capt. tossed me in a box car

Filled it with razor blades

Capt. locked me in a box car

Filled with razor blades

Walked out the next morning

 With a trim and a shave.

 

 Capt. took the fever blanket

 Laid out my dying bed

 Capt. took the fever blanket

 Laid out my dying bed

 Looked so disappointed

 When I raised my vaccinated head.

 

 Nothing ever seem to go

 The Capt.’s way

 Nothing ever seem to go

 The Capt.’s way

 Every time he close the book

 I write another page.

 

Please don’t tell the Capt.

He ain’t ever gonna win

Please don’t tell the Capt.

He ain’t ever gonna win

 

Gets tall as a wall

Look at him fall in the wind.

 

 

 

Listen to “Razor blade” here.

 

Cornelius Eady Trio

Cornelius Eady: Vocal;

Charlie Rauh: Acoustic Guitar & Electric Bass;

Lisa Liu: Electric Piano & Guitar.

Arranged by Rauh & Liu.

“Twilight is the Hour” mixed by Charlie Rauh.

“Razor Blade” mixed by Lisa Liu.

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady 

Jam Session —  History Rhymes:  Black Lives Lost, PT. 1

Jam Session — History Rhymes: Black Lives Lost, PT. 1

When we asked Cornelius Eady about Black History Month, he responded by sending us a cycle of songs / poems. Eight in all, Eady named the cycle “History Rhymes,” after the famous Mark Twain quote, “History never repeats itself, but it rhymes.”

Performed by the Cornelius Eady Trio, this cycle commemorates the injustices and wrongful deaths of many Black Americans. We will share two a week over the month of February.

Cornelius Eady TRIO

National Book Award-winner and Pulitzer Prize-nominated poet Cornelius Eady has set his poetry to song with the Cornelius Eady Trio. Eady’s songs tell the story of passing time, the Black-American experience and the Blues in the style of Folk & Americana music. Guitarists Charlie Rauh and Lisa Liu join Eady to create layered and graceful arrangements to bolster Eady’s adept craftsmanship as a songwriter, lyricist, and poet. Cornelius Eady Trio has performed at Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery, AWP Conference, Peabody Essex Museum, and Hill-Stead Museum and recorded at Sun Studio in Memphis, TN.

Cornelius Eady so well captures the spirit of RIFF–and especially the topic of “Jam Session”–taking us beyond poetry, beyond music, and into that hallowed place of meaning.

(Eady’s music is) in the vein of Taj Mahal when he’s at his metaphysical best, Keb’ Mo’ when he’s most squarely located at the crossroads of tradition and innovation, or Eric Bibb when he’s at his most soulfully transcendent.” — Joe Francis Doerr

As Cornelius says, the first song, “Mississippi Summer,” came into being as “An imagining of the last car ride of Emmett TilL.” 

(Read the tragic story of Emmett Till’s murder here.)

The next song, “The dead mother,” is dedicated to korryn gaines.

(Read about the shooting of korryn gaines and her son in her home here.)

MISSISSIPPI SUMMER

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

 

You don’t think it’ll happen

til it happens to you.

You thought what you said meant nothin,

But those tires are comin’ for you.

Mississippi Summer

Chicago boy wakes up in surprise

Mississippi Summer

Now you’re the apple of these old boys eyes.

 

This is the way we make a point

This is how a point gets made

They pull you out a nice, warm bed

And toss you in a watery grave.

Mississippi Summer

They’ve been searching for you for days

Mississippi Summer

Cash you out as the debt gets paid.

 

Now they got you in

The back of the car

They’re laughing and you know you’re the joke

Won’t stop as you start to cry

Won’t stop as your bones get broke

Mississippi Summer

One-way trip under a murderous sky

Mississippi Summer

Rattler’s hunt and the hoot owls fly.

 

This is the way we make a point

When a White gal takes offense

Dirty Negro thinks he’s white

Dirty Negro ain’t got no sense

Mississippi Summer

Emmitt Till won’t see the sun

Mississippi Summer

On the bus to see the way things’ done.

 

Headlights spears on an empty road

Whiskey and hate on their breath

How many miles til the deal goes down?

How many minutes til a dead boy drowns?

Mississippi Summer

Off to meet

Who you’re ’posed to be

The last Mississippi Summer

In D-I-X-I-E.


Listen to “Mississippi Summer” here.

The Dead Mother

 Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

 

They shot me

For a question

While I held

My child

 

Like a dog

That you put down

When she barks

Too wild

 

My black skin

Was resisting

In a cop’s mad eye

 

They shot me

For impatience

While I held my kid

 

Like a monster

From a swamp

Rising from the Id

 

Surrounded

Defiant

Look at what they did

 

My soul and

Gunpowder

Rising in the air

 

My assumptions

And my boy

Lying wounded there

 

My black skin

Was poison

Was a losing hand

 

Oh people

Good people

See what they have done

 

Smashed my home

And took my breath

And stole me from my son

 

Took my name

And misspelled it

As the crazy one

 

Bring a sharp axe

To the mountain

Tear that mountain down

 

Scream my name out

Like a siren

Though every street in town

 

Don’t bury me

Plant my story

Like a seed in the ground. 

 

Listen to “The Dead Mother” here.

Cornelius Eady Trio

Cornelius Eady: Vocal;

Charlie Rauh: Acoustic Guitar & Electric Bass;

Lisa Liu: Electric Piano & Guitar.

Arranged by Rauh & Liu.

Mixed by Charlie Rauh.

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady