there's a hot wind

[bennie2]

and a jazz player saxaphones
and a jazz drum drummer drums
and a reggae black man guitarist strums
and a violinist from the RSAMD violins in the hot wind rain storm august glasgow winter summer night time lunch break hour!
her horse bow movements are hypnotic
and i
lean against a black electricity box
her and her friends play canon
i count loose change
i'm happy that the sun is there
the architecture is reclining
covings knowing flutter with birds wings
D A
Bm F#m
G D
G A

[Lightning Rod]

Am G F E
the axis of evil in rock n roll
then you start adding 7ths and eventually inside 9ths

and the blues starts to look more like jazz
the stacked harmonics are trying to understand life
of course it's impossible
so we change keys
or do a two chord vamp
life death, life death oblivion
the axis of evil

[joel]

A two-year-old reads music as well
as my grandfather ever did
whose post-traumatized and disordered, malstressed life
found joy at the American Legion
woozy on beer and wired to the keyboard
whose improvization bested Gershwin
and whose style bested Choppin
and whose vigor bested Liszt;
and when my grandfather
(whom I never knew so well)
upgraded from the piano in his life-time shiftworker's bungalow
to an electric organ (half the size of the living room,
a musical pedastal for all my grandma's Hummel figurines) and died,
the piano came to my mom's living room
and now my two-year-old nephew loves to smash the keys
bang the blacks and whack the whites
and it hardly ever sounds half as good as his self-provided laughtracks;
but occassionally,
that little kid hits a chord
as unknowlingly as his great-grandfather ever did
that is powerful and strong, major and minor at the same time
and say a prayer
if it isn't a miracle that deafeningly silences Earth's axial spin.