JAZZ POEMS

TRANE

Propped against the crowded bar

he pours into the curved and silver horn

his old unhappy longing for a home

the dancers twist and turn

he leans and wishes he could burn

his memories to ashes like some old notorious emperor

of rome, but no stars blazed across the sky when he was born

no wise men found his hovel, this crowded bar

when dancers twist and turn,

holds all the fame and recognition he will ever earn

on earth or heaven. He learn against the bar

and pours his old unhappy longing in the saxophone

KAMAU BRATHWAITE

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