John Quicke

 

 

Jazz At The Alcazar

 

Our guide talks of minds concentrated by the rhythmic radiance

of flowery repetitions, interlacing geometric shapes,

ribbons of Qur’anic inscriptions joined to proclaim oneness.  

 

I’m out of it for a smoke, earphones ablaze with Ornette Coleman,

once accused of ‘standing on the throat of jazz,

casting aside chords and reaching for improvisational anarchy.’

 

Back under starlit ceilings, there’s more about homage to refined

abstraction but now the tonal and the atonal jar

in conflicting adjacent worlds. To build bridges does hope

 

lie in a jam between two minimal mathematicals? Would Messengers,

Art Blakey and muslim converts, smoky sinners as cool zealots,

be heading up four rivers of paradise to restful pavilions?

 

 

John Quicke © 2017