The Jazz of Horns

Something of the jazz of horns

blows in me,

something of the night

with its stars and whores

queued up from here

into the day light

swinging on doorways

and Mexican prayers

sequined against the

satin of this world.

 

Something of the jazz of horns

brewed in the coffeed skill

of Miles Davis and John Coltrane

Turned back in pages

of pleasure on the bed of

this city.

 

Tucked into the corners of

silly memories and laughter

of cars in back seats and

motorcycles roaring through

valleys shoved up to heaven

against the corridors

of heaven

 

Something of the jazz of horns

and midnight crusaders

women worn from drugs and money

blows in me, and out through skies

lifted from within the veil uncovering

sin and sequence. Something of the

jazz of horns blows in me

 

Brett Simpson - 1996


California Writings

Copyright © 1996 by Brett A. Simpson, All Rights Reserved, World Rights Reserved