antitoxin…

antitoxin

club’s
well short
of
a quorum
just
a few old jazzers
with
hearts
pulsating
to
piano notes
no one
but
the musicians
on
stage
seems
to notice
the lack
of
patrons
all that matters
to
the old jazzers
is
the music
the antidote
to
the world outside
it’s
been that way
forever
it seems
music
counteracting
the poison
of
the world
releasing
a flood
of
sweet memories
with
just
a few chords
and
notes

sideman…

sideman

this ain’t
no
permanent relationship
it’s
more
of
a fling
with
an itinerant lover
shaping sounds
into
passion
causing
breaths
to be held
and
hearts
to pound
with
desire
fulfilling fantasies
without
touching
the
perfect
affair

hitting the right note….

hitting the right note

there’s a magic
about jazz
maybe
it’s the souls
encrusted
in its notes
souls
laying dormant
until nightfall
when
they’re animated
by the city’s
quickening pulse
freed
from the bondage
of death
taking flight
flying from horns
and
keyboards
rolling out
of the throats
of singers
singers
unaware
that the notes
aren’t
their notes
but the voices
of ella
sarah
or
a thousand
other voices
that have led
the lost children
of hope
into the promised land
time and time again
a land
where
their burdens
are lifted
and
their sorrows
melts away
and
for one brief evening
all
is
right
with the world