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McCoy Tyner
December 11, 1938 – March 6, 2020
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Our Father, Who Art McCoy Tyner
Do you believe in God
after hearing McCoy Tyner
on My Favorite Things
who wouldn’t
hallowed be his holy name
hallowed be his hands like the front and backside of a wave
breaking the whitest of white man songs over a piano
causing irreparable damage
hallowed be this jazz flood
hallowed be this jazz hurricane
forget the news
forget politics
you don’t need to know anything else
hallowed be the lull between chords
when the harmony goes quiet for a minute
before his hands lock together like the deepest pilings
creosote stained
barnacle stained
and another wave rolls
looking for somebody
may his will be done
in this kingdom
may he forgive the bluefish their trespasses
and the croakers and spots who trespass against us
may he forgive me
a mackerel
like every other mackerel
a sinner looking for something shiny
before the Fall of Rome
some pottery
a necklace
a school of notes
and I found it
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John Stupp’s third poetry collection.Pawleys Island.was published in 2017. His manuscript.Summer Job.won the 2017 Cathy Smith Bowers Poetry Prize and was published in August 2018. A chapbook entitled.When Billy Conn Fought Fritzie Zivic.will be published by Red Flag Poetry in 2020. He lives near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. From 1975-1985 he worked professionally as a mediocre jazz guitarist.
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Read Ben Ratliff’s New York Times obituary of McCoy Tyner by clicking here
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Powerful tribute to a fine musician who has departed this vale of tears to our great loss. Fine poem, Mr. Stupp.
A diverse pile of objects that, strangely enough, fit together perfectly