THE BLUES MACHINE HAS STOPPED

In memory of Cora Walton "Koko" Taylor, 1928-2009



Between numbers

Willie Dixon

used to explain

what constitutes

the blues

thus creating

the College of Pentatonic Engineers (COPE)

and standing out

among a standout faculty

Koko Taylor

demonstrated

that a woman singing

the blues

could indeed

move the Earth.

Her exams

were neither

written nor voiced

but danced

and if you could dance

that was singing

the blues ...

you were a bluesman or blueswoman ...

and this blues,

this testimony,

was a bridge between us

and by shaking the Earth

all together,

stone and earth and clay

might yield before

that kingdom

implicit in the language

of the blues,

a lunar,

reflective tongue.

We are time and tide

together.

Our ships groan

like great oaks

which slough off

stout limbs

as they stretch

yet we are

inexorable.

Coil hawks

stifle hungry cries

across quilted hills.

Antares in occultation,

the silent code

exchanged

pinpoint to pinpoint

in arabesque meadows

of silken tips

and braided ends

lies bereft of secrets,

whispering,

When we say the blues

we ain't talkin' no hydrangeas.

There are some finer points,

however. Say you meet

the Devil.

All I can say is you better smile

and act like a lady.

Hah huh huh.

And if you meet a lady

things gonna get a little complicated

and this is why we sing the blues.

And though the sky itself

heaves shrunken,

the ends of bare wires

sputter and pop

and the howl templars

of hoodoo

are stifled

and the wing-ding

wang dang doodle

that spilled night into

so many long days

has spun to an end,

that span,

a transposition

of sidereal keys,

not quite amphibious

but like some

blue terrapin

across time and tide,

an ancient passage

such as a poem,

awaits

discovery.

-- Robert Preuss