Motion (for Elvin Jones)
With a smooth exactness,
the cyclone carries time upwards,
As a fountainspray,
Precisioned patterns dispersing
across the air’s divide,
The whirlwind’s arc touching the clouds,
Emerging wet and elliptical,
Finally returning on the wind,
A downward draft to crash among the metal discs,
The booming parade-march heartbeat.
In sync with the Earth,
The interlocking push and pull pulse,
The rollover transference of evening’s descent,
to the open envelope of tomorrow,
The grinning cyclone storms around the kit,
wading deep in the percussion array.
He drums and sweats,
propelling the world.
Freddington works as a shipper/receiver in Toronto, Canada, and has been a lifelong jazz fan ever since he was “corrupted” as a teenager by Charles Mingus’ “Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting.”