First Lesson

Daddy say, "Listen son—that's the Blues."
I laugh cuz blue is a crayon
and color don't make no noise.

Daddy say the man is playing the panda.
It's big and black and white like the bear
but he got shiny skin, no fur.

He growls, but he don't move.
This panda got a whole zoo inside—
open his belly and look.

Daddy say his heart made of horsehair strings.
Pieces of elephant in his teeth.
Three golden peacock toes

the man keeps stomping
until the panda hollers louder
like it hurts real bad.

Daddy give the man's hands they own names.
He call one base. Thunderstorm. Buffalo herd.
The other named trouble. Birdcall. Baby crying.

Daddy's eyes wet as my sucking fingers.
He say the pandaman sound like
Thelonious.

I laugh again cuz I didn't know grownups
like to make nonsense words too.
Daddy say, "YES! Sometimes I write

nonsense words in a book.
It's called poem.
Or haiku, like:

Shoulder up the blues
my life collapses in scales,
floods of flatted thirds."

I will color
a panda picture for his book.
I will make it

with the blue crayon
that my daddy calls
music.