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POEMS

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Fresh Jazz

You are listening to fresh jazz
Not dried up, hard, refrigerated jazz
Not deep frozen
Take care to defrost jazz
Not “What is that smell coming from the corner?” jazz
But fresh jazz
Where the next key
Slides between the vibrations of the bass string
And saliva in the neck of the tenor
As the last lingers in the dynamic of now
Where fingers are fast and calluses have taken years to build
Where lips are stretched and gums are made of steel
Where skins are brushed and beaten
And you can smell the weight of moist sex in the humidity of the sound

Fresh jazz
A benediction for body and soul
Saintly music
Patrolling the darkness in search of vampires

Fresh jazz
Exploring a landscape where nothing is posted
And the frontier is the figment of a wordsmith's imagination

Fresh jazz
You are listening to fresh jazz

You are listening
With the hairs on the back of your neck
With the emptiness in the pit of your stomach
With the smoke in your eyes
With the electricity of your body

You are listening