P O E T S ON THE LINE
a continuing anthologyFounded by Andrew Gettler & Linda Lerner
NO. 9 & 10 T H E M I L L E N N I U M I S S U E
Edited by Linda Lerner
TONY MOFFEIT
Blues For Jack Micheline
the night city chants of charms and horns and sirens and jazz
the night city's rhythms and your cry, jack, above it all
like a hawk screeching a nighthawk searching for the light
all the blues all the jazz all the horns blasting
outrageously for the most
secret lover's heart
and you rambling drifting endlessly with scraps of paper
everywhere scribblings
and scrawlings of
what it takes to blow
a pure solo scraps of
paper in pockets in
dresser drawers of
hotel rooms
you are the blind shot in the dark that never misses
blowing the real jazz stabbing the dark with your notes
overcoming the odds, the ace in the hole of the winning hand
let's keep the beat, jack, in the night city
hear the harmonica wind blow a good blues
the city at night in its surreal neon breathing jazz pumping
the pulse of the planet
but it's the people, jack, the people you blow for
the loners and drifters and lovers and dancers
deep in the night the word rises like a song
that long sweet solo that floats like a phantom bird
that long sweet solo that flies above the city lights
train whistles blowing like foghorns through the endless
sea of the night
like a wind against ramshackle houses in the south
like a saturday night rain in the streets of new orleans
blow your mad blues, jack, in the frisco fog blow your
ghost songs your horn words
and, yes, walk endlessly that sidewalk to the sky
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