I wrote this poem after chatting on the front stoop for a while with my downstairs neighbor, Mr. Victor Lewis, who it just so happens is a very fine jazz drummer and what's rarer yet, an ultra-fine specimen of a human being.
Words shared with a Jazz Messenger
Like the shape
Of a drum solo
Of a drum solo
The words of a poem
Come and go
And sadly
A good one
Sometimes slips away
No longer accessible
No longer accessible
To RAM or to ROM
Still it might
Come back to
Get written down
One day because if
An idea or riff
Is persistent enough
Is persistent enough
It will manage
To be reheard eventually
And that’s how we know
What it meant
In the first place
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