Erato’s Love Notes Part 9

I evoke you
…Out of the babel
Of Babylon, in the cadence
Of our hearts’ embrace — like
Love inciting poetry
& verse inviting passions
Of the soul to be its
Epitaph, as the voices
Inside my head splinter
Then rejoin & rejoice in a chorus
Of the syllables
Of your name swinging
Off & on the branches
Of the echo tree
For eternity to adhere
& infinity to see…
Even through the confines
Of night, “striding
Across nothingness.”

*Quote from Zora Neale Hurston

Mixed

 (…but not mixed-up)

In spite
Of being light-bright
(& almost white, but
Not quite)
I choose
Neither to assimilate
Or to hate nor to separate
The human race
…but instead, realize
All of us comprise
The face of its fate…
& trust in the vernacular of my soulness.

Jazz According to Thelonious

“The piano ain’t got
No wrong notes,” long as the song
Tells a story.

Erato’s Love Notes Part 8

As the millions of
Colors sound off in my
Mind, to infuse hues

In the umbrella
Of umbra and propel me
Through the tyranny

Of time, I fall more
In adore with the broken road
Running parallel

To moons conjured
“In the twilight of
Perpetual noon”

That led me through truths
And transparencies
Dead into you.
*Quote from Geoff Dyer

Erato’s Love Notes Part 7

We

Are destined to dwell

In the wake of love

Till death do us part

(so, we

would be best to save

all the bright wonders

of our words to heal

the worlds

of hurt we endure

through blunders of time

until it is dead —

buried

by love).

Convergent Compulsions

To elevate (rather
Than escape) the shadow
Of Trane, Elvin played

Like a shaman of Shango
Delivering the thunder

“Like a tidal wave
That never quite breaks, that
Never stops breaking…”
[Quote from Geoff Dyer]

The Truth About Buddy Bolden

“Bolden went crazy,
Because he really blew his
Brains out through the trumpet.”

 

 
(According to Jelly Roll Morton, as quoted by Alan Lomax)

Reprise: “The Shadow of Your Smile”

[Urania’s Song] 

Why are my eyes roaming in the moonshadows
of her silhouetted smile as if it was a montage

of her soul being projected as a chromatic fantasy
upon the umbra of the universe
gravitating to everything under the sun?

Why are my thoughts drifting dreamily with all

the colors coming and going yet somewhat slipping away from day, as if they were
the empress of heaven’s old clothes (or lack thereof)

composing the coda of its coming to a close…
only to find it is the reprise of these eyes.

Angel of Harlem

Lady Day, the truth
Still lingers with every new
Earful of “Strange Fruit.”

Anatomy of a Moment 

Listened to as well as looked at
With only a split second depicted
The felt duration of a picture

Extends several seconds before
And after that frozen moment

From what just happened to what’s
‘Bout to happen
Dissolving in the trance of time.