Jazz Poems

THE BLUES OF THIS DAY The blues of this day are as elegant and as sad as the minor thirds and we all try to sing it. What we want is to be brass The horn-scratched voice blown through. Valves as golden as his. Lord as crazy sex or first real heartbreak. It was always his back slightly bent away from all of us who adored him, gazing across his shoulders as the band jumped into the party one solo at a ti Or they could be rocking way off-ke going as far away from the melody as Venus to Mars. Funk can be as easy as t getting together in the dark. And as hard as the breaking light that catches the throat of sated lovers, the morning after. The talk the night before by the last of his men who knew the way of the world and then some, about Miles and his two steps ahead of the century like the first Black man to leave the Delta humming I gotta go, but I can’t take you. I gotta go, but I can’t take you. If you want to follow, then do what you want to do. Patricia Spears Jones

from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young

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