Alfred B. Spellman

Alfred B. Spellman Poems

my swing is more mellow
these days: not the hardbop drive
i used to roll but more of a cool
foxtrot. my eyes still close
...

i will die in havana in a hurricane
it will be morning, i'll be facing southwest
away from the gulf, away from the storm
away from home, looking to the virid hills
...

so there's the 15th heavyfoot regiment band
the harlem hellfighters, james reese europe
director, tuning up. they got a french horn
choir & enough trumpets & t'bones to call down
...

his worn hips barely support the horn
in his hands. it is gold & flashes under the fresnels
the sound is deep enough to live in. phrase turns to
brilliant phrase & the source never empties
...

florene barco moved
to philadelphia &
on a visit home told
us she went
...

Alfred B. Spellman Biography

Alfred B. Spellman (born August 12, 1935, Nixonton, North Carolina), is an African-American poet, music critic, music historian, arts administrator, and author. He first garnered attention for his 1964 book of poems entitled The Beautiful Days. In 1966 he published a highly influential book on the history of African-American music entitled Four Lives in the Bebop Business (aka Black Music: Four Lives; Random House). From 1975 to 2005 he worked as an Arts Administrator for the National Endowment for the Arts. He has been particularly instrumental in supporting and forwarding jazz music within the United States. Spellman is the son of two teachers and attended P.W. Moore High School in Elizabeth City, North Carolina where he was a member of the basketball team, glee club and oratorical club. After graduating in 1953, he entered Howard University where he was active in the chorus, the Howard Players, and he began his writing career. He graduated in 1956 with a Bachelor of Science degree in political science and then continued with graduate studies in Howard's law school.[3] In 1959, Spellman began a career as a music critic for a number of magazines including Metronome and Down Beat, for which he wrote reviews of jazz music and musicians. In 1964, he published his first book of poems, entitled The Beautiful Days, which was very well received and considerably raised his profile as a writer. His reputation, however, was truly solidified two years later with his first full-length book, Four Lives in the Bebop Business—later republished as Four Jazz Lives—an in-depth look at the lives of jazz musicians Cecil Taylor, Ornette Coleman, Herbie Nichols, and Jackie McLean. After touring the nation with several other African-American poets in 1967, Spellman joined the staff of Rhythm Magazine where he wrote poems and political essays until 1969. After leaving the magazine, Spellman conducted a series of lectures at major universities throughout the United States, including Moorehouse College, Emory University, and Rutgers University, among others. He then joined the faculty at Harvard University where he taught African-American studies from 1972 to 1975. In 1975 Spellman left Harvard to become director of the Arts in Education Study Project for the National Endowment of the Arts (NEA) in Washington, D.C. Three years later he became the director of the NEA's Arts Endowment Expansion Program, a position he held for the next eight years. Between 1994 and 1996, he served as associate deputy for program coordination at the NEA, and then became the director of the NEA's Office of Guidelines and Panel Operations. In 1998, Spellman was appointed the deputy chairman for the Office of Guidelines, Panel and Council Operations for the NEA where he remained until his retirement in 2005. In 2008, Spellman published Things I Must Have Known, his first full-length collection of poetry, with Coffee House Press.)

The Best Poem Of Alfred B. Spellman

Groovin' Low

my swing is more mellow
these days: not the hardbop drive
i used to roll but more of a cool
foxtrot. my eyes still close
when the rhythm locks; i've learned
to boogie with my feet on the floor
i'm still movin', still groovin'
still fallin' in love

i bop to the bass line now. the trap set
paradiddles ratamacues & flams
that used to spin me in place still set me
off, but i bop to the bass line now
i enter the tune from the bottom up
& let trumpet & sax wheel above me

so don't look for me in the treble
don't look for me in the fly
staccato splatter of the hot young horn
no, you'll find me in the nuance
hanging out in inflection & slur
i'm the one executing the half-bent
dip in the slow slowdrag
with the smug little smile
& the really cool shades

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