Charlie Parker

Charlie Parker looked like Buddha

Charlie Parker who recently died laughing at a juggler on TV

After weeks of strain and sickness

Was called the perfect musician

And his expression on his face

Was as calm, beautiful and profound

As the image of the Buddha

Represented in the East — the lidded eyes

The expression that says: All is well

This was what Charlie Parker said when he played: All is well

You had the feeling of early-in-the-morning

Like a hemit's joy

Or like the perfect cry of some wild gang at a jam session

Wail! Whap!

Charlie burst his lungs to reach

The speed of what the speedsters wanted

And what they wanted was his eternal slowdown

A great musician

And a great creator of forms

That ultimately find expression

In mores and what-have-you

Musically as important as Beethoven

Yet not regarded as such at all

A genteel conductor of string orchestras

In front of wich he stood proud and calm

Like a leader of music in the great historie Worldnight

And wailed his little saxophone

The alto

With piercing, clear lament

In perfect tune and shining harmony

Toot!

As listeners reacted

Without showing it

And began talking

And soon the whole joint is docking and talking

And everybody talking —

And Charlie Parker

Whistling them on to the brink of eternity

With his Irish St. Patrick Patootlestick

And like the holy mists

We blop and we plop

In the waters of slaughter and white meat —

And die

One after one

In Time

And how sweet a story it is

When you hear Charlie Parker tell it

Either on records or at sessions

Or at official bits in clubs

(Shots in the arm for the wallet)

Gleefully he whistled the perfect horn

Anyhow made no difference

Charlie Parker forgive me

Forgive me for not answering your eyes

For not having made an indication

Of that which you can devise

Charlie Parker pray for me

Pray for me and everybody

In the Nirvanas of your brain

Where you hide —

Indulgent and huge —

No longer Charlie Parker

But the secret unsayable Name

That carries with it

Merit not-to-be-measured

From here to up down east or west

Charlie Parker

Lay the bane off me

And everybody