Thursday, October 28, 2010

Scott C. Kaestner

MILES

it whispers as it screams
improvisation is the moment’s
eternal presence

toes tapping, brass blaring
percussion, keys, and cocktails
clouds of smoke

transmit sublime soundscapes
“go, hepcat, go!”

now the beat is bop
souls shall be lifted
time doesn’t exist

in the vacuum of your creation
“blow, miles, blow!”

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