February 21, 2022

Cracked Window




my trouble is too many stars in the heart
solar system out of whack out of orbit out of this world

I woke up today in a moody blue kind of mood

perfect for painting moody kinds of blues

you must wake from death to return to life

wisdom does not float in with the morning tide

I had a mountain of love and nowhere to put it

peace is always far off — a far-off thunderstorm, a far-off train horn, always far-off

I stayed up all night writing, slept for a couple of hours

then got up and wrote some more

have written a lot of good poetry listening to good jazz

wonder if anybody ever wrote good jazz listening to good poetry?

maybe in some village apartment on a sultry night

with the cracked window cracked

somebody reading some beat poetry was inspiring some jazz player

had a friend and a friend of a friend drop by late

the friend of a friend entertained us with wild tales 

that sounded too unbelievable to be true, probably because they weren’t

but he was one of those people that loved to entertain with his bs stories

thought he was doing you a favor///really annoying really

was glad when they shoved off

he should have been keel hauled 

he probably thought he made my day with his yarns

he didn’t...