I play jazz with words.
\nA keyboard of sharps and flats,
\na thousand, two thousand keys,
\nas many words as imagination uses.
\nA console in my head.
\nAn organ full of storms and bells,
\na horn to blow birds from.
\nA harp of endless phrases.
\nBlack as pitch.
\nSpritzer frizzling.
\nDeep bows, dancing on the strings.
\nPing-Pong on the walls.
\nTempo expanding into jazz.
\nThe snapping of a geisha\u2019s fan.
\nThe swinging highs and lows of notes
\ndissolving into butterflies.<\/p>\n
Jazz played like jazz.
\nNew Orleans\u2019s style.
\nChicago romping.
\nNew York booze,
\nand tap shoes tapping
\nlike the heart running down the street.
\nMusic inside words,
\nmeaning showering like the rain,
\nsex flirting on the page,
\nbreaking glass inside an adjective,
\nclicking fingers,
\nwords falling off the margins
\nof an edge,
\nsyncopation where a sentence ends.
\nJazz, as blue as a feather flies,
\nchasing shadows around the room,
\nmaking love with words
\nrising from the paper,
\nall that jazz,
\nto go
\nwhere you want to go.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I play jazz with words. A keyboard of sharps and flats, a thousand, two thousand keys, as many words as imagination uses. A console in…<\/p>\n