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‘TRANE’S PLANE
Folder:
THE POETRY KEEPS GETTING DIRTIER
The magic is gone
and jazz is more
of a sit down
than stand up and dance show
but ultimately these
such distinctions
really don’t amount
to anything
and thru the tunnel on
the Blue ‘Trane
we ride along
the mountains of Utah
and thru the hills of Kentucky
or thru the Northeast corridor
stop in Pittsburgh or NYC
it doesn’t seem to matter
roll, roll down under
the cool sax tones dancing
and searching for the sun
reaching out to touch
God’s fingers
but to no avail
That goal eludes us
elapses before us
The elongated anxiety
in a flash of light
Uranus orison chanted
spoken aloud
by paupers
of distinction
ecstatic sailors
and overburdened wailers
they cry aloud along
the sea shore
and they don’t really know
if they want Alaskan crab legs
or Louisiana catfish
but one thing is certain
both are heard by the masses
as the timing
of the best of the heart
is reverbed in a second
and elegant dancers
attempt to reflect
their emotions
thru gyrating motions
and one must guess
thru the rampant lyrics
of a soul in turmoil
and creation
as the father’s son
speaks
so too does the son’s father
speak
and it is urged that one
stop a moment
to ponder the fate
of the Minoans
and all the other extinct
or endangered cultures
fighting for survival
2-11-1991
