The Chicken Singer

I plan on converting these prose poems into another form. I’m going to have to set off some time to bring about a conversion to something more electric.This lady has a fabulous voice.

YouTube – Kay Starr – If You Love Me, Really Love Me (1954)

Kay Starr

The Chicken Singer

August xx, 2008 by Bernard G. Krebs

b. Katherine Laverne Starks in 1922. Later changed her name to Starr. Father was Native. Mother was mixed. Some Irish. Her mother raised chickens. Kay serenaded them in their coop. What a sweet voice she has. Chickens laid a lot of eggs. Everything came out so smooth. Her aunt arranged for her to sing on a Dallas radio station. A little kid and that big mike. She soon had her own show. Moved to Tennessee. At 15 she was singing with the Joe Venuti orchestra. Became a star. Her voice warbling across the airways in the mid-west. Moved to different bands. Retired for a year. Nodes on her vocal cords. Lost her voice. Did not speak or sing for six months. Sang with her hands. Returned with a deeper huskier voice. They called it her Trademark

Roller Coaster Betty

Betty Hutton

YouTube – Betty Hutton – Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief

August xx, 2008 by Maynard G. Krebs

b. Elizabeth June Thornburg. 1921. Dad ran off with another woman. Years later. Telegram. Dad committed suicide. The windshield wipers. The rain falling. Down. Mom ran a speakeasy. Two sisters started singing. Always avoiding the police. The bridge at dawn. The bridge at dusk. Down. Moved to Detroit. Down to one can of beans. Without the pork. Grade 9 and dropped out. Betty Hutton got a job as a ‘tackspitter’. Down. Fingers looked like a pin cushion. In a local theatre. In the corner. Of the room. With a local boy. Who sang in a local band. Became the high priestess of frenzy. Jitterbugging. Thrashed around so violently. Fell into the orchestra pit. Down. The drummer sued her for assault. Standing in buckskin. On Broadway. In a silver dress. On the living room rug. On radio. In Hollywood. In movies. Success was satin sheets. Feathers and tears. Going down. Smelling of cigarette smoke. In a mirror. Waving goodbye. Oh God! Let me fall in love! Bouncing Betty. From lap to lap. Marriage. Going down. Under gas lights. Down a lonely hotel hallway. Kids. Sleeping in. Sleeping pills. Divorce. In the heat. Of the afternoon. Hotel rooms. On her knees weeping in the shower. Where are all of you? Lip stick smeared across painted skin. Down. Down. 86. Dead of colon cancer. None of her kids showed up. At the funeral. I can’t hold on. Someone help me. I keep going down.