The sound

released from a beating heart

repeating the part that grooves.

First heard in Kansas City

while shot up on smack.

This could be the end

right there and then

or strung out along a line,

time stretched out

thirty-five years

seeming like seventy or more.

What kind of sound is it

that flies like a bird

released from a beating heart?

Tell me and tell me again

what it takes to hear

through applause and laughter

long after you’re down

and just need to get up again;

when Lester jumps in

and Ko-Ko is dancing with Laura,

tell me, will you love all of me?

I’m giving it all I’ve got

all I’ve got to give

all of it.

The word

first appeared to me

in a poetry anthology

stolen from a California library.

It was worth the price

of creditors tracking me down

for $27.99 plus tax plus late fees.

It was worth it for a glimpse

of a spanning vision

Let’s face it, that’s we really get,

just a glance, a few bars,

a line, a sentence, a phrase.

Maybe a sonnet,

a four-and-a-half-minute jam

that’s got a swing.

Maybe an epigram.

Who can maintain a groove

carried out along an ever-shifting line

dipping down

and then back around?

Who can play all out

all night long

as sweet on the last note

as on the first song,

still ready to go?

He could.  Just remember that.

I only saw the word once, momentarily,

held it like a bubble, lost it.

He found the sound.  Just remember that.