Roger Singer

 

 

 

 

Swirling breezes

push hard

with jumpy

hurricane winds

slapping fast

like mosquitoes

flying round

sticky music

buzzing wild

in your head

that can’t

be trapped

like a

scratchity

scratch

you just

can’t reach

with itchy

fat fingers

so instead

you start

to hum

and make

a way

for the song

to dig

a hole

in your brain

to jump

right in

where jazz

lives smooth.