Though, why this tune, the heart, this ventricle
quintet obeys would rather drink the sky’s
fruited sap and milky ways sleep out in dicey
abandonment allelic waste in atomic peace where
elegant melodious art of jazz life plays on wakes
occasioned for the Princes, Aziers, and Queens
in ships out on the bottom, the clouds, on the deep
think before the drink in muddy waters of floods
and splatter from the feet find moral in the hollow
of a log soul at rest round midnight blowing soul rousing
the piano morning street would to certain extents have
known harvest heartache songs, foolish bop, emancipated
knees bear up to play on strong, will to bare and carry this
foreman’s day after days of tyranny, back bent emancipated
child of silage mill preserve the nation’s plea for star cascade
of soul and seed great with coddle child and quadroon strain
sing notes on horns that acts agree the deep rhythms and
lonely blue intimate true colorless nature, intermingle
quintets of nature’s recipe, would write the verb to light
upon every man every act as now the seventh sense is
pesher to the noun, would this conscience traditional voltage
mull duration over this tipsy view moral feel and reveal as
gypsy women do, cabernet sauvignons and militancy spirit’s
invitation as hard as rsvp, abandon needs and rare wines and
nations to be won declare them in this testimony affirm to be
free to sing of as anthems fail to make the case to see
the spirit beneath the color of the face truly stated words
separate truth, and I of the deep so spread winged against the
sense of the wing’s stiff disincline would rather drink the sky.