Monday, July 4, 2011

JAZZ STREETS
  (for Miles)   





Night streets itchy with intent:

alleyways anxious to unburden their illegitimate offspring:
a drunken brawl or a stiff corpse.

Suddenly:  the air abubble with bop: a trumpet  -
what wizard! what shaman! weaving from his own soul
this amazing sound?   -    here was spirit trying to break from clay;
a rustling forked-lightning translated into music;
a minstrel wandering new by-ways  -

although,

the pain born of slavery
was always at the cutting edge.



Carolina
to New York
black cats and blues

No comments: