Jazz

Plunk and bam, slsss, whump
In the semi darkness the velvet
trump of sound lay down
harmony in the cacophony
some soul fine tunings here in the
At Mo's Fear

Some interludes of juicy lush
distant hand swing memories
of jots, dots, hip-hopscotching
thru streets of Man Hat Tan
it was just fine sister
to be in mid town
riding for riding's sake

against wind and time
Yeah, it was.

Night skyline indigo
never failed to whoosh in
smooth cascading vibes
over Brooklyn bridges and under
dives Brighton passes
that 7 thousand miles
is signaling real good
rhythm now straight
into the broken heart of the

Mid
Ill
East -

with a shift and a breeze
the moon phased trees
in silver rims crazily brushed
with frenetic salty brims
as sun light gently dims
and shadows of passing white boats
get etched in an ocean
of cobalt blue notes.

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