Jazz rained down in rivers

catching out strong soul

and soft hands

rising to the call of music prayers

among blind angels

who fail on color

and possess great mercy

scattering dark thoughts,

lost eyes ,

and roads leading from home

and shoes speaking miles

and dirty hands

breathing out the land

with labor work

as cars roll by and tires splash

yesterdays puddles

turning up nations of dirt

as colors rich with rhythm

press the rock of flesh

draining the hate

and melting the change

of years of blood chains

and stiff straw

and bed songs sung to children

and Sundays

with amen’s rising.

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