Art Tatum’s Minor C
by brian longacre
(Note: When you read the word “splashes” in the following poem, it is very important [I hate the word “very”], crucial that you hold the first syllable an extra beat, as in “splaaaa…” Do not skip this part or you will be committing an illegal poemectomy — only freshman English teachers have that legal option. Then, after you say “splaaaa…” and hold it for an extra beat, do not let go of your breath. Hold it. Hold it. Hold it, silently, silently hold it and then say, “… shezzzz” while exhaling, letting “…shezzzz” ride your breaking wave of breath. And, don’t feel like you have to really [I hate that word “really”], fully pronounce the “z” sound at the end. Land on that last consonant like you’re kissing a sleeping baby, like you’re da Vinci blowing off a gnat that landed in the wet brush stroke of Mona Lisa’s cheek, like you’re God bent over Adam breathing life into his nostrils. Now, if you’ve read this far, then I trust you to do this right. In fact, I trust you to hold this poem in your mouth, in your mind, and if you’re still willing to read more, then read me next [I hate that word “next”], now.)
I love how Art’s minor C splashes.
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