the majestic sounds
of melancholy memories
they continue to
soothe my soul,
like coltrane’s blue
train slowly lulling
me to sleep,
comforting, as his
poetic notes become
my notes upon
a poetic slope,
downsizing the orchestrated
cries of a
city longing to
be born again,
like the saints
of, new orleans,
to be awakened
by, to be
mistaken nah, an
entertaining piece of
jazz i might
say, containing cymbals
of metaphors and
similes, as if
this moment would
last into infinity,
like the words
of any great
poet, blowing illustrious
syncopated tunes made
only by the
black and white
keys of alicia,
but you don’t
even know my
name, and still
my words rise,
the REBIRTH.
-e.