beat goes on / volume goes up / lights go down
time marches on with or without us stepping along some lead the parade;
center ring, in the spotlight some watch from the curb
marching bands with the rhythm
thumpity-thump and the snare snapping
75 trombones, one stayed home and got drunk
dao jazz is sometimes smooth;
sometimes free jazz fusion-like
all over the place crazy
easy and melodic, smooth as silk
other times harsh like bad medicine
how many notes can I slam into this measure
jazz like that gets on my nerves
honking like the unbridled cacophony
fifth avenue friday night at rush hour
back home—-meditating on an ‘Indian’ blanket
under tall pines who are my best friends
there stand tall behind my house
a few of them got knocked over in the hurricane
but there’s still some standing real majestic-like
so I set up my blanket among the pine needles
pine cones, pine sap, pine tar, pine heaven;
sitting in happiness in the cold november dusk
after a while, came inside to warm up
lose the chills
steaming english breakfast tea in a chipped cup
with chinese writing on it bought
in a roadside resale store in Oblivion, North Carolina
it looked sad and forgotten and a long way from home so I bought it so it wouldn’t feel bad
now it’s part of my family
like so many other castoffs
