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

For  Casting Bricks Challenge.

11 thoughts on “Blow

  1. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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!

      Liked by 1 person

        1. 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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