In San Quentin prison the psychos,
thieves and junkies exchange
desolate tales, and each one’s
a variation on a theme
that ends the same. Breathing in
and breathing out
to keep his panic at bay,
the man with the sax
is no exception, but tells his
in a different way.
Reinventing where he’s been,
one shimmering note
at a time, the way ahead’s unclear.
Stuck with the changes,
he plays them
the way he feels today.
Very hard to capture jazz in poetry but this does it get.
A masterful and intuitive poem, like sculpture the way it encapsulates every nuance of the situation.
It is always a worthy effort to convey the spirit of jazz as I myself play piano jazz and the whole ethos of it is like a constant rebirth . The discipline of Art compared to the chaotic motivations of the prisoners has a strange parallel which you have seen.
Ray
David, I enjoyed this very much, the spirit of jazz really comes through. I hadn't realised that, in addition to psychos, thieves and junkies San Quentin prison housed sax maniacs! Happy New Year. Paul
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Greg Freeman
Mon 2nd Jan 2017 09:57
Lovely that a musician and poet like Ray appreciates this so much, David. As I do, too.