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