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August 1, 2010 / Gio

aka Dig!

The earth grows out of an upright bass

and spins a walking love luster under its leg.

Dueling saxophones

throw down their bronze swords and

fly by the night

into the moaning mixture,

the howling moon;

the ferocious murmur of black and white,

the tender growl of an eighty-eight.

I travel

forever west

following incantations of a ghost drummer,

hypnotic sea-body rhythms

lure my soul

to the symbol of cymbals and crashing rhinoceri,

and the snap crackle staccato

of cool blue gurus doin’ a doobee doo doo with you know who.

The music soarrrs

through the weight of smoke

and bumps a ceiling fan.

Beebop! …and riddle-le-dee-bop!

What do you say when you wake up to a quintet of angels?

The space of music

and the piece on earth.

Knowing when to be silent

and allowing the secrets of another cadence to fall into your hands,

like the virgin rain,

like a tom tom boom,

like a good fresh funk.

Slippin’ and sliding and searchin’ and sometimes nailing the note…

as if the note was really looking for us the whole time.

Like sculpture in stone.


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Leave a Comment
  1. Claudia / Nov 13 2010 2:30 pm

    hey gio – again – i love this poem… :=)
    would like to contact you regarding a spotlight. if you’re interested, would you drop me an email?

  2. Claudia / Oct 15 2010 9:35 am

    i LOVE this – been reading your other Jazz poems as well cause jazz is the music that inspires me most
    I have written a jazz poem just this week – in case you wanna have a look


  1. The Spotted Cat « Giovanni Cucullo

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