drifting into the Vanguard
in ’61, Trane blows a blue-bottle
fly into my silken ear
a nightmare
pursues me
through the streets
allowing a taxi
to precipitate me
home where I have never been
the blue-bottle fly
tips back its longneck vodka
bottle brown
horse fly
trying to find that fine
fine vein
shoot high then squeal
the tires and the reed
bent all the way to Harlem
Jilly’s first half: Trane Blows
qbit 
I like what you did with this. I’ve been looking at Jilly’s first half for days, trying to decide if I could write a worthy second half.
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Thanks! Do give it a try. Lots to work with, many directions you could go!
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Welcome. I’ll try to come up with something.
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Lots of directions, indeed! This is like a tapestry that has been carefully woven with the fly, the drink & drug references so fitting jazz players, and the music itself. I really enjoy the connections and how you go back to the opening line with the locations. You nailed this one, baby! I’m honored.
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You had a *terrific* set up. I only had to play the rest of the notes of your riff.
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Huh. I will have to read this a couple of times….but , it is very interesting! Worth reading again.
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Thanks for giving it a read. It’s a collaborative poem by Jilly (italicized) and me re the music and culture of jazz in the early 60’s. Riffs about a bit unstructured as you note!
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Oh! now it makes sense! LOL! I know so little agout jazz.
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Oh goodness. The poem makes no sense at all if you don’t know something about John Coltrane and jazz in New York in the early sixties. You are excused from this one!
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I think you found that fine, fine vein. And not only that but a fine, fine story in there as well. Love it!
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Thanks!
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