Big Joe Turner

Originally posted 6/13/2012.

Big Joe Turner 
could palm a jump blues
like an egg, handle it rough 
without breaking it.
The proof is right there —
find him on old vinyl,
open up that piano ripple 
on “Shake Rattle And Roll,” 
let Big Joe, long dead,
smite you with
the soft club of his voice.

I think I sound good,
as good
as Big Joe. 
The shell fragments
and the sticky yolk on my hands
say no.

The heart of me says no.

People are starting
to forget Big Joe.
Forgetting how he rolled
those notes across the room
with his bare hands 
on ivory — 

No.  This stained,
sticky heart

says no.  Forget that
wild noise, that man’s hands
and what they did?  How the world
was remade after that? How my world
was remade?



About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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