Kamau Brathwaite's poem "Blues" begins with a section labelled "Basie" that starts like this:
Hunched, hump-backed, gigantic,
the pianist presides above the
rumpus...
And suddenly I'm transported to a Maurice Sendak scene, with Basie playing for a wild rumpus while pink palm trees sway in the breeze. Better romp while we can because when the boat leaves, the rumpus is over.
1 comment:
I met Sendak when I worked at an ad company in NYC. He was selling his characters to AT&T for an ad campaign.
He was a vicious, dried-up little man.
I still like the book, and I'm a big fan of making mischief of one kind and another.
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