Wednesday, July 25, 2018

from EASTMAN

For awhile there’s nothing
Just this buzz in the headphone
Then we start over again
The notes ascend like they do
Not to heaven but to this blank between the ears
So it’s like the ears blinking
Hiatus before it hums
Even tone of this dawn sky
Just standing here at brass
Shining in its praise
But then the wake up call gets weird
The birds all flying the wrong way
In the wrong sky
The sun pulled up and down up and down
Like a shade in an old cartoon
The mist clears
The smoke clears so we can see the bodies
Realizing this is war and what you’re playing is
Some distant version of taps
The jazz instrument bent back to its military use
Then bent again beyond recognition

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