blues for jack micheline

bop angel blowin your sax words on streetcorners
bop angel blowin boppin stompin jukin spontaneous solos
sax words to a harmonica wind improvisational syllables
downtrodden saint on streetcorners spiraling scat songs
downtrodden saint on streetcorners train moans inside your head
bop angel downtrodden saint trains moaning and saxophones
                    blowing your jazz words
word jazz it's a solo like trane making that horn talk inventing
                    a new language
                    a new jazz dance
unforgettable endless never enough dance of jazz talk jazz scat
                    satchmo and new orleans
trane and new orleans no end not enough never enough beat bop
                    fingersnap fingerpop
movement motion feeling pulse trains stars moons wind rain
old songs from the ancient jukebox there is no end to the beat the words
                    the jazz the night
take five jack hit the road jack it's called ballin the jack
                    yeah yes uh huh
yas yas yas scat enough spacetime you'll enter the mexican day of the dead
                    any day any way
bones of mexico fever in the blood circle of moon in the sand
                    ruins of ancient dreams
at night you move in blue shadows night air guiding skin to lost hideaways
i'm a fool baby i'm a fool i'm a fool i'm a fool i'm a fool for you
no end to it rainbowed darkness of a backstreet in juarez
and all of a sudden you are naked in that bullring and everyone is watching
and with the grace of the torero your words become a ballad
an old standard you blow for the bull an ancient song of broken hearts
and your heartbreaking voice rises to the clouds bop angel matador
                    downtrodden saint
steetcorner wizard spontaneous jazz syllables leaping in starlight
chantsongs against moonman sugar death at once feeling the pulse
                    of the train
one last time feeling the pulse of the train that movement that motion
                    that rhythm
underlying rhythm beat pulse heartsong blown long mean ole frisco
                    mean ole lonesome train
bop angel downtrodden saint mexico in your bones now now mexico
no altar man you moved too fast nothing stationary just your ashes
                    blowin in the wind
day of the dead skeletons always dance man dancing skeleton you are
juarez bullring flamenco rain her red dance a rose in her hair
pumping a solo of feverish blooddrum mariachis singing an old love song
it's now or never all or nothing at all just the way it's always been
everything or nothing all or nothing take it or leave it
duende flamenco her dance duende flamenco her moves
                    duende flamenco her touch
she dances endlessly in a juarez dive her matador footstomp
                    yes she is in that bullring of love
guitar wind her eyes are razors lasers yes just say yes yes just say yes
on this train to nowhere jack the last vestiges of rhythm the last glance
                    of the lover's eyes
her body one last time in the spotlight under red lights in a juarez dive
bop angel downtrodden saint go with the rhythm go with the beat
                    go with the dance the chant
the scat the bop the stomp the solo blown on a last ditch train
go man make death sweet death sugar death make death sweeter sweeter
                    sweeter with your solo
crow song of mexico bone song of mexico snake dice thrown
                    deal that mojo hand
it's a long gone train it's a long gone solo it's a long gone
                    ace up your sleeve jack
those fingers trembling along your spine deal your last hand your last card:
                    mexico




outlaw

the night is alive with a thousand eyes
let the outlaw enter the streets
and all becomes gunfire foreplay
the risks too high for the stakes
the roulette wheel spinning for the snake
poker-dealing saxophone women
stripping to the cards
how many notches on his gunbelt?
how many tattoos on her legs?

the night is alive with a thousand eyes
let the outlaw dance with the danger he meets
and all becomes lightning poison
the blues of the edges
words that are bullets that rip the flesh
words that are knives that flash in the darkness
killers of cages and chains



indian summer

cordova sits on
his front porch
writing until
dusk when he wraps
himself in an
indian blanket
like a witch doctor
and dissolves in
the pueblo night
i drive by night
after night and
he never moves
staring straight
ahead transfixed
like a witch doctor
in a navajo trance
except tonight
when he leaps
from his chair
and dances on
his lawn tearing
what he has written
into little shreds
of paper and
throwing them into
the air and they
fall like snow
on his dancing
shoulders his
front lawn like
frost in the
blue haze of
indian summer



billy the kid

saloon doors swinging
billy for the last tequila
the last dance the last
laugh and a silence
pounding with your
heartbeat for the black
clouds the coming rain
your dancing laugh
echoing through barroom
and saloon and mexican
beds none of this and
no that your dancing laugh
billy your groaning dance
through barroom and
saloon and brass bed
the thunderclouds
approach for the lightning
jumping in your head