#12
"monk's mood"

("why do you evade the facts?")

for melba boyd & sadiq muhammad


what would piss you off
if you were monk
but the superficial gesture,

the appropriation
of the formal
weirdness

without the content
or any intent
to keep the code

of manly conduct, that what one says
& what one does must be one
& the same

or either bullshit reigns
& walks & talks
like a man, but no man

is there to be found
in the action, like hats & beards
& funny names, or dreadlocks

& canes, the constant iteration
of the sainted litany
of the great masters

as a form
of intimidation—the pointed
finger, the crooked

tongue, the phony shit
that monk despised
& not the word made act, no pose

but for real,
no crooked intention
or weird overlay, like

this cat is a chump,
let's set him up, we can
get the money out the bank

without him knowing about it
& not pay the other musicians
for the concert

& blame it on him,
that they never got paid
& put some crow jim

shit in the game too,
like it's about color
or anything else but sincerity

of expression, depth
of soul,
intelligence, it's not about

race it's about
culture,
motherfucker,

like what you learn
from constant exposure
to what people be doing,

it is learned or acquired, from birth on
or from when you be born into it,

like the way the music
can be studied, & the life
& the code of behavior can get in

to the sound, like monk & james
p. johnson,
willie "the lion" smith,

the cats in his neighborhood
& in harlem
where monk was well known

the piano players
hung out together,
they bought each other drinks

& meals,
or a place to stay,
but they took care of e ach other
with no hand
in the other cat's pocket, no
knife in the back,

no phony shuck &
jive, twisted, super
hip sneer on they jibs,

straight-ahead cats
with the ethics
that made them for real

men of music
we worship & study
long after they have passed from this sphere

—detroit
august 1 /september 15 /december 18 -23 , 1985/
july 7 , 1989
edit for steve gebhardt
wvxu-fm, cincinnati
may 14, 1991