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Trading Fours with Douglas Cole is an occasional series of the writer’s poetic interpretations of jazz recordings and film.
This edition is dedicated to saxophone players and the mood scenes that instrument creates.
A recording of Douglas reading his work (accompanied by the saxophonist Noel Haye) is found at the beginning of the poem.
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This one goes out to the saxophone players, the energy, the mood, the voice of the saxophone, a natural companion to the spoken word, I think. From the smoky sound of Dexter Gordon to the wall of ecstasy, spirit trying to pierce the veil of John Coltrane and the groove-breeze pacific glide of Stan Getz, I also want to recognize those not so well known session players of the LA scene. I also think of Wilton Felder and Tom Scott, the Lighthouse All Stars, and the many more unnamed contributors to rock and fusion, adding elements so specific that removing them leaves more than just a missing track.
So, welcome to this not last installment on California-leaning poetry, and very specifically, welcome to the extremely talented Noel Haye who agreed to accompany me on this piece.
-Douglas Cole
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photo via Pickpik
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Listen to Douglas Cole read “California Suite”
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CALIFORNIA SUITE
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Ode to LA
Hollywood — I see you from the Grapevine,
from Great America to Magic Mountain,
as I arrive chasing love down your green days,
sprawling crab city—everywhere at once:
Nick glaring over a pile of blow,
towers of pizza boxes and the electric yellow
pool light rippling across the walls, ceiling
some guy going on about his court case,
and I drive your searing Sunday hazy
square of sunlight sliding across the floor.
Hills and valleys, really, where’s the beach?
Dawn on Sunset with pretenders of rain,
not like you, I brought a coat of clouds
wrapped around the window frame,
but with that lonely sound of cars below
and music above, I fall for you all over again:
yucca spears, locks and gates, air of mystery…
what were you thinking in a cantilever room,
or climbing the open staircase with frosted
glass above circuit board lines to the sea?
Everybody’s garbage out, must be pick up day.
In room 87, top corner east, under a billboard,
what do I see? Red neon light in the palm trees,
Buddha thin-lidded at the end of a lotus pool,
a castle on the hill and one bird going high,
so I’ll drive that old car, no money but free,
a kid seeking visions through road speed,
or on deck at the Adelaide, sparrow on the ledge,
coo—coo of the morning dove, and this table,
so much like the table I typed two novels on,
drank beer, smoked nights by an open window.
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Valentino’s Graveyard
In the valley, one fractured rock
on San Vicente, shuttered Saturday,
the crumbling stoops of Fairfax,
Shatner billboard saying boldly go…
over tarp huts and cactus gardens,
secret backyard soul kitchens,
electric grids and aqueducts.
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Chateau
While down in the hooker bar—
man, colossal legs and style,
people in their private films,
the rest of us nothing but extras.
And all this coming and going,
no thought of the cockeyed
cabinet door or broken springs:
it’s no home but looks like one.
Big booming bass beat
from a stretch-limo van,
running boards lit up
like the day of the dead,
and I pass the same oligarch,
two bodyguards, three women,
who remembers me and smiles
from his cabana by the pool.
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Swim to the Moon
Rose clouds and the sweet grass valley
drop you right here opposite me
fiddling with your keys, saying I ought to be…
trailing off as if the traffic were important.
I say let it go and let’s go up Laurel Canyon
and find the high watermark of music
on one of those swizzle stick palm trees
surrounded by cliff-clinging mansions.
Let’s lock into the beam of light
jasmine peak above the dead-end sign,
dandelion heads exploding in the dark,
whispering, O Venus… O little bear,
rising with a glimpse of paradise.
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Reprise
And up in the murder hills,
…………among the saintly crews
and prophet singers swimming in pools,
…………late light flickering ghost
dancers on Looking Glass Avenue,
where’s the rain, the cleansing rain,
…………the rain of ages, the cure for pain,
shining through your shadow,
…………your Tudor grace and stucco grin.
O holy bougainvillea
…………bit of blood from the knife blade
at the world’s hot severed birth,
…………trailing off in barbecue smoke,
under clouds with fingers fine as spider legs.
And ohh…you’d be perfect for Mark Antony.
…………And you, my dear, with features like that,
not just ships and war but at last you might
…………inspire an everlasting peace.
And storefronts absorb the traffic of eyes,
…………the tricky stairs to a temporary view
where you light up, brother of angels,
…………schemer of lines with celebrity energy,
and that crooning voice of Ventura,
a conjured character, step by method step,
…………glad-handing promising blue agents,
going back to the bungalow and the afterglow
…………big as a tanker ship.
big as your last scene, exquisite expression,
…………close up on your slow death face
full of world wants and compassion
…………under the great audience of stars.
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Film and music that were influential to Douglas Cole on “California Suite”
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Dexter Gordon, in a 1970 performance
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The 1961 filmed performance of John Coltrane at the Village Gate, with Eric Dolphy, McCoy Tyner, Jimmy Garrison and Elvin Jones.
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1973 recording of Stan Getz and Bill Evans performing Cole Porter’s composition “Night and Day” [Universal Music Group]
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A film of a live concert by The Crusaders
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Howard Rumsey’s Lighthouse All Stars on “Frankly Jazz,” (with Bob Cooper on saxophone)
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photo by Jenn Merritt
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Douglas Cole has published two novels and eight poetry collections, including The Cabin at the End of the World, winner of the Best Book Award in Urban Poetry and the International Impact Book Award. The White Field won the 2021 American Fiction Award, and his screenplay of The White Field won Best Unproduced Screenplay award in the Elegant Film Festival. He has been nominated Eight times for a Pushcart and Nine times for Best of the Net. Click here to visit his website.
Douglas’ poem, “What We Talk About When We Talk About Kind of Blue,” published as part of his “Trading Fours” series, was nominated for the XLVIII Pushcart Prize
Click here to visit his website.
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Douglas Cole’s new novel, The Invisible Hand
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Noel Haye was born and raised in the legendary Brooklyn, NY. According to the doctors at Brooklyn Hospital, he was born with little to no air in his lungs, but God had a lot in store for him. Noel comes from a family of musicians, so it was inevitable that he would become one as well. Noel was introduced to music in the fourth grade when he had his first piano lesson. He developed a unique love for the saxophone when he heard Kenny G for the first time at the age of twelve. The sound of the saxophone resonated ever since.
Noel had a desire to join his school’s jazz band, but the saxophone sections were full in both junior high school and high school. Eventually, he settled with playing in the drumline of his high school marching band. Noel’s serious desire for music grew in his senior year of high school and by God’s grace, one spot opened up in the jazz band saxophone section. He took the opportunity without hesitation. Since then, Noel has been on his own musical journey playing for various events, churches, couples, weddings, and more. His playing is influenced by the genres of Jazz, Funk, Hip Hop R&B, and Gospel. Some of his influences include Kirk Whalum, Gerald Albright, Kenny Garrett, and Maceo Parker. Noel continues to work in his God-given purpose each day and wants to continue blessing the lives of others through his musical talents.
Click here for his website
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Click here to read previous editions of Trading Fours with Douglas Cole
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Click here to read The Sunday Poem
Click here to learn how to submit your poetry or short fiction
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