hayden carruth, 1921- 2008

Hayden Carruth began writing when he was 6, but acclaim came late in his career. His poems captured his hard work, mental illness and love of jazz.

Hayden Carruth has died at his home in Vermont.  (thanks to Joe in Sunrise)


Scrambled Eggs And Whiskey
  Scrambled eggs and whiskey
in the false-dawn light. Chicago,
a sweet town, bleak, God knows,
but sweet. Sometimes. And
weren't we fine tonight?
When Hank set up that limping
treble roll behind me
my horn just growled and I
thought my heart would burst.
And Brad M. pressing with the
soft stick and Joe-Anne
singing low. Here we are now
in the White Tower, leaning
on one another, too tired
to go home. But don't say a word,
don't tell a soul, they wouldn't
understand, they couldn't, never
in a million years, how fine,
how magnificent we were
in that old club tonight.