Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

He was real gone smoke rings,
three beats beyond syncopation,
no hesitation levitation prosody twisted
in the crook of his jet black fist-ed bey-rey.
Stars screech down on sax glinted soul oh
that cat was gone to a better place,
infinity trinity of a jam swerve
wailed in the key of three feet
off--the
floor.

Street noise drifted in, he paused
like some split/second planetary eon.
He gathered himself in smoke, woosh,
and then all quiet rhythm and blow.
I lost him in the orbital swirl.
His eyes were on Mars.

(reprinted with permission from
the m-nazz escape/flash collection)
(ok, so he's no Kerouac).

a real read but that last trip takes the real away... who wrote this?

Sorry. That was me. Inspired by the K-man. Thanks, Cec.

It's a damn good read and i'm glad you wrote it.


thank you.

me too. it's got style.

I thought I'd bump this, since we had a nice little, um, "discussion" about bebop/bop prosody today on another site ...

Hope you enjoy. I'll catch you all on the other side of the weekend. I'm going into internet silence again ...