NYU Black Renaissance Noire Winter 2014 - Page 60

By YUSEF KOMUNYAKAA The Candlelight Lounge Ficre’s Flow All the little doors unlock in the brain as the saxophone nudges the organ & trap drums till an echo of The Great Migration tiptoes up & down the bass line. Are the big fish caught in a current or eating little fish behind the double darkness of a cave that goes back Faces in semi-dark cluster around a solo, edging toward a town of steel & car lines driven by conveyor belts. But now only a sign stutters across the Delaware, saying, Trenton Makes, The World Takes. With one eye on the players at the Candlelight & the other on televised Olympians home is a Saturday afternoon around the kidney-shaped bar. These songs run along dirt roads & highways, crisscross lonely seas & scale mountains, traverse skies & underworlds of neon honkytonk, wherever blues dare to travel. A swimmer climbs a diving board in Beijing, does a springy dance on the edge, turns her head towards us, & seems to say, Okay you guys, now see if you can play this. Sh RW