The molasses of sound
dripped slow
flavoring him since youth
when jazz got onto
his ear
like a propeller wash
of beats
making a whirr and buzz
like coffee all night
and golden arms
with trumpets
slivering the truth
out of him
surfacing with a suddenness
like food slipping from the
fingers of angels
into a hungry air
greedily expanding
and pulsing a vibe into
feather floating fans
pushing the words
and shadowing the room
as he sings
“You got me right”.
Roger Singer 