I think of Fats Waller whose left hand leaped down the keys, showing the path for every jazz pianist who followed, including the great Art Tatum and the minor Billy Joel.
This post marks the beginning of a new irregular feature in Vox Populi. I hope readers of Vox Populi, many of whom are writers, will find the prompt helpful in stimulating their creativity.
It’s the old dancers that fascinate me.
Training everyday as the body resists,
The spirit lifts them into clarity.
At 7pm tonight the official launch of American Ash, my new collection of poems published by Ragged Sky, is happening. I’ll be reading with two wonderful poets — Joan Bauer and Richard St. John.
I grew up in Texas beef country down the street from a world-famous barbecue stand. I didn’t become a vegan until I was 54 years old. I probably have been responsible, at least in part, for the death of 10,000 animals. It’s never too late to change your life.
Oh God she says
The dog has learned to spell
Of strangers is luminous, the way
We wish well for the man who lost
His car keys, the woman coming in
Out of the rain, the girl who missed
Her bus, the boy who stutters.