In April

combination of the hot tear | A noise beneath the noise | Together we unspool | curve of youth | October’s endless ribbon in a maiden’s hair I unravel | its noiselet | not your garden variety Platonic— | Then she is housed. | into a suit of worry, birdsong recircuited. | left in the lyric dust late in the night | WOW! This is new, surprising, strange, out-of-nowhere, and oddly sensual. | That’s what they call a nation. | as chief social pleasure | Brought me nearer to the tomb. | I can show myself to bed and make nice | this prick pushing a stroller | helen keller corduroy | So this—this is Pontiac LeMans | you will have a sponge lizard in your stomach | into the distant colonies | Like the radio dark. | ask to coronation par none | Pretty nice, but that was then, | I just put my name up on the board. | a punctuation to harbor time | one-eyed monster flame-ups | Her phlox already rotted. | o you are my cabana privily | millennial persuasion | may I sing it? | These moods came on in the early fall, | Dust rides in with rainy explanations. | in the sweep

Light My Fire

A Little Something for the Mayor

See, I do change it. But I can’t help it. It’s not that I’m a “genius”—but it’s just that I can’t help it. I play it one way so long, I just have to change my way. In order to give it to you. So you’ll like it.

Miles Davis