“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


Poetry & All That Jazz

Yesterday morning, sitting here crosslegged on my couch, tv on, sound off.

It is not a poem, I think - it is jazz. It is here; it is there; it moves all over the place. There is sunshine breaking through the clouds barely, barely, and oh-so-welcome. Bono is on the television, sound off, singing away nonetheless. CNN is talking to the Taliban who are saying about US troops: We will kill them - sound still off, but CNN providing all I need to know in their little black box full of white words there at the bottom of the screen. Truly. After such a statement I need no further information. I look away to find the bird who is singing outside my bedroom window, then back to the television, and now CNN is in Cuba. The bird stops singing and I hear the ticking of the small white clock I keep in the living room. Dan from up on the corner walks by, wearing black socks & shorts, patrolling the neighborhood, his dog on a leash leading him forward. I look back to the tv, and CNN is in Texas. The bird outside begins to sing again, but the sun moves behind some clouds, and the day turns a pale gray. Again. I switch to the local government channel, their morning camera pointed downtown - the street where I work is always at the bottom of the screen. If you turn right at the tv screen and head down a couple of blocks, there we are. Just look for the blue walls.

But right now it is today. The weatherman says we can almost call it hot. It is muggy. It is slow jazz, if it is jazz at all. It is air barely moving - if it is jazz, it is early early in the morning jazz, after a wild night. It is the jazz of an old black & white photograph, one corner torn off, small nightclub, hat on the back of the head, slow slow exhausted jazz - white button up shirt unbuttoned, tie loosened; it is jazz sitting backwards in a wooden chair, tired arms draped over the chairback, one hand barely hanging on to a cigarette, the smoke drifting up & out, too tired itself to move far or fast. And it is still morning - this jazz will be a slow shuffle through the humid air by this afternoon.

The image above is a detail of a possible piece for my show. Probably. I may change the word, although I have used this image for the announcement, and have placed a flower above it, blooming from the very word itself. And in writing that sentence, it occurs to me that I will keep this word.

A flower will bloom from the finished piece.

That's poetry.

and sweat and Texas and reality


  1. i like that notion...morning jazz. and watching the news with sound turned down. i'm going to look for jazz in my cooking as i make dinner...this is quite possibly a brilliant idea.

  2. Nice relaxing text. You 'got' the Jazz right here.

  3. Julie - Oh that's me. Brilliant! LOL!

    SS - I got the jazz right here. I like the sound of that.

    :) Debi

  4. According to Britannica, a "found poem" is "a poem consisting of words found in a nonpoetic context (such as a product label) and usually broken into lines that convey a verse rhythm. Both the term and the concept are modeled on the objet trouvĂ© (French: “found object”), an artifact not created as art or a natural object that is held to have aesthetic value when taken out of its context.

    You have created a "found jazz". Bravo!!!

  5. Gabby - Well, that is cool! I love that!!

    :) Debi

  6. And here I was listening to Benny Goodman all this time... can I do the jazz without the tv?


    ps. love the photo!

  7. Tango - jazz is jazz & needs no tv.
    Just start. Although I'm thinking you don't need to be told that.Suvarna - :)

  8. Yes, that's poetry. I truly enjoyed this post, Elizabeth.

  9. Everything you write is truly poetry.

  10. Brenda - From your fingertips to God's ear.


  11. that is poetry. enjoyed that. your words hav a very soothing effect.

  12. I am so moved



    movedby your work


    i shall buy a piece of your

    that poetry...jazz....spirit

    will grace my home:)

  13. love the last two lines--I have just started reading your blog, and find your sense of expression fresh and positive.

  14. Kamana - Oh! I find you 2ce today! How nice of you! Thanks so much!

    Jaime - Then today I am a limerick with a line missing. Nothing is working - my paint brushes have rebelled, so I have tucked them into bed. :)

    Maddie - Oh, I hope you do! What a wonderful home it would have & what smiles I would have knowing where it lived! I am so dancing right now - but not to music. To your kind words and the crazed mockingbirds song outside. :)

    Mars - Oh, welcome, welcome. And thank you!

    :) Debi


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