Don Cherry plays the pocket trumpet. I think those are the most beautiful words in the world.
For there is nothing more delicious or more red than a cherry, and there is nothing warmer or more comforting than a pocket, especially when you have your hand in it, especially when someone puts their hand in it, and for love. And trumpets are of course lovely, too, even out of context. In fact, if there is anything wrong about this sentence, it’s got to be Don.
But, let’s give Don the benefit of the doubt. ;) (We welcome Ricky back to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his renewed page – check it out.) – mh clay