maybe i was drunk
but i coulda swore
this mornin i heard
Coltrane roar:

“…only one I’m
angry at is myself
when I don’t make what
I’m trying to play.”

in restlessly gentle
ascending relentlessly
in outcries of ferocious
harmony, he was
the guru gifted with the voice
of his angry tenor
delivering piercing
layers of sound.

& Om, he said, is “the first

that sound, that spirit
that sets everything
else into being.”
as i listen to him,
like a disciple
of a brand new creed
heeding the discourse
of his tenor saxophone
in incomplete replicas
that breathe some but not all
the emotion of being there in the flesh,
i hear the unselfish compassion
of a meandering maestro and his soul’s ascent
beyond the limits of his outstretched horn
that spawns the spirit
of the cosmos as he knows
it to be, like him
still pursuing
the promise
of A Love Supreme.