the jazz the hip the swagger the sound high life sweat and gin piano sweet horns of life dogs barking neon’s sizzle suspenders and silk pony tails beards and sash fingers snap lipstick and lace cymbals and sticks midnight and the passage to the other side


pretender of day product of night sunglasses worn at midnight   eyes behind shade painting dark darker eliminating shadows   faces move close as words find shelter within the music while night dreams blossom under plastic magnolias


That piano man.  Unlocking keys with his finger.  Breaking down doors into the light of song.  His head pulses with beat.  Shoulders sway like ocean waves bringing the high tide of song to the shoreline of crowds.   The sound is a wind he creates.  Escaping the bonds of different voices where into one moment … More PLAY THROUGH


There was a breath of bad jazz.  Dark curtains frosted over.  The jams Of songs fled from the fingers to the valves on the horn. “Where comes the sound?”  People nearby wondered.  The air became frantic With cut notes.   Fractured and scratched from the blood of soul and sand, where his life lay exposed … More OPEN WIND


The jazz sweeps the lonesome form me feeding my needs and filling my wants digging into deep and pulling up like an anchor rising from the a dark blue breaking the gold blue surface releasing my pain spinning it like a top faster into fast onto the floor past dancing feet breaking the sound into … More BREAKING SOUND


He belongs to the night people; stories without legs and fast rooms with slow talk. His music is the jazz that drowns out the guilt while overpowering the need for more.   His words are like sledgehammers, crushing the crystal while sharp edges rub the skin of your listening.   Sleep is an intrusion to … More OVERPARTS


His hand slapped the backside of the bass while busy fingers snapped alive the strings into music words he whispers during dreams. When he’s half way around the world he knows he’s finally half way home. Curtains of clouds guide his direction past empty diners and towns without smiles. He never feels lost when on … More BLACK SHOES


Shadowed images crowd deep into him releasing the engine of his drive; rough breathing scrambles onto walls of dreams where innocence covers sin   His jazz is wind. A coursing of multiple gusts turns heads while capturing idle thoughts.   He stirs under covers of restless sleep. Nightmares call him by name. A cutting moon … More DREAMS ALIVE


Just let it crash on me heavy like summer rain washing my face beating me like wind over with around twisting my thoughts straight with moving jazz like catching a train that never stops traveling hard with song holding me like lovers eyes winking fat with lust making me stumble drunk with needs and calling … More CARRIED AWAY