Music was hot like sugarblades,
liquor flowing at just the right speed.

Midnight landscapes receed into oblivion
each like thoughts fading into one another.

Poems begin taggin themselves on rasberry velvet walls
invisible hands clapping to rocksteady rhythms.

Honor tapdances with my pleasure to be here with you
like pen and ink theres no better windsong than us.

I hear the whistle, Coltrane in F sharp,
Signalling we have reached another destination, or origination

Depending on the passenger.

(Choooooo Chooooo)

Keep it jum jummin!
________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys