JAZZ EVERY NIGHT TILL THE END OF THE WORLD

by on December 31, 2017 :: 0 comments

Sexy saxophone you howl
to the Moon
at night
that your silver chambers
burn like a bowl
of opium weed
in the cool beyond words
in a hole
where the deep heart
of June
left itself to bleed
and soon drifted on
past witchey October
to a place where the Sun
has long since gone…

editors note: May end never come; sun never caught. New Year welcomed, as we ought. (We welcome Sam to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) - mh clay

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