Miniatures in a tall city,
in the east, by the river,
Discord from the subway trains,
Music in the weather,
Delightful highs and dreadful lows.
Hot chocolate and a warm raincoat.
A hat, a headphone,
It’s dark where my thoughts go,
The heathen of the harrowed heart,
Strung as the strings are,
In the upright by the barstool.
Sevenths of a higher power,
Heard but un-listened,
Out-of-sight and out-of-tune.
A most curious light,
on a most curious face,
the blind jazzman plays.
A sight for blind eyes.
A song for deaf ears, alive
in the endless echo of a thought distrait,
from the bellows of a mind afraid,
Lest it vanish to be found again.