Jazz, to me...

(poem written 3.11.07)

Transpiring intervals;

Periods of existence moving between two nights.

Seconds turning to minutes,

Minutes turning to hours,

Ever increasing and never ceasing,

Until at last, we achieve an epiphany regarding the necessity

for the appreciation of melodies,

And a deep regard for true sound.

Notes in syncopated rhythm evoking a transformation of the mind,

And a profound alteration of the soul.

Saxophones summon a sensual response,

As instruments evolve into more than a device for producing music.

Rather, revealed to be extraordinary tools in their master's hands.

Complexities of life fade,

The gentle lilt of the lyricist leading listeners on a journey,

Expanding the intellect,

Creating an environment of pure sensation and expression.