lucky strike

somehow 32 ounces of eccentricity
wound up splashed
against the wall
forever enshrined
as a standing eight count
forever a heroic figure
frozen in time
someone kicked the shells
under the couch
along with empty bottles
i ever realzed before
how simple it is
to alter
the pages of history



bud powell

the bandstand is bouncing
human confusion blurred
into palpable resolution
we are filled
with a thousand ghosts
stepping right out of our shoes
while fetching that shiny thing
bang those 88s
to hell & back
tell them heaven
isn't slippers
shuffling down
endless well-lit hallway
but dancing on red hot coals
jumping higher
.....higher




sonny liston

could drop a mg
with one punch
but the drug
left him
with a taste
that he savored

it follwed him down
to the mat
from a phantom right
to a flea-bag hotel
singing
old sharecropper songs
rocking to the high
the sweet bye & bye