Jazz Combo

From behind, I see myself walking along 

The street; I see block after block laid out 

Like an endless stream of anecdotes, until 

I find the place where I want to turn in. 

Lots of strange silent people walking around today. 

How can one go to work in the morning, 

Come home in the evening 

And still, still have nothing to say?

Jazz is the sound of a big city.
I realize this as I sit inside the room.
Screams, train tracks, gunshots, industry:
All might be experimental,
Though none would be unseemly…

Read the full poem at In Principio Erat Verbum!