Jazz
the kitchen sits in fruit soup... steamed apricot mango shadow down thru spinning smoke into hot light blink beat body ends dangle lead eye skin cement high on tongue night pasted among buildings Styrofoam clouds moon hung beneath billboard rolling pass wet rocked streets soul tramp diamond panhandlers watch paper birds slices of the daily news drift in air comes cool ether whispers up door climbing dusty corridor tree windows lapping lisp door slams again noise again then none void nothing syncopates noise again door slams tree bare frozen caught in the image of 7 candles within 7 candles flames of air 7 light bulbs growing out of each other 7 silver circles coined from 7 silver rings clear as blazing sheets of glass yet vague as dust an ice cube on wood table in front of crushed velvet melt poured peeled when this sky now boiling with stars is strapped black in pinched air thru sucked mind swimming pass spaced time will be one silent note up.