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The Jazz Game
by Bradd Howardregurgitation of a sax squeal
sucked back into a brass tube
pursed lips scat, smack
do bop a loop do dow.
light bouncing off cigarette cherries
and the hum of a lonely horn.
regurgitation of sex appeal
sucked back into a hollow you.
feet tap, tap, tapping
to a high hat and a cymbal clash
whisky giggles and vodka dreams
beer chasers, chasing the demons on down.
sore throat, constricting.
you can't always get these things out.
sometimes you just have to flow like smooth jazz
and live like that is all you need. 11/28/2006 Author's Note: ok... so it is.
Posted on 11/28/2006
Copyright © 2026 Bradd Howard
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Heide McAlister-Bates on 11/28/06 at 10:14 PM Yummy. I read the rhythm. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 11/29/06 at 04:42 AM Really, really nicely done. Some of the best language and imagery I've seen in awhile. |
| Posted by Katerina T Nix on 11/30/06 at 08:36 AM Very creative and great use of imagery. I really enjoyed reading this piece. Well done -Kat :) |
| Posted by Karl Waldbauer on 12/02/06 at 02:46 AM I can't shake the image I have of you and a saxaphone...almost missed the rest of the poem. Great work, Bradd. |
| Posted by Cristy M. on 12/12/06 at 11:33 PM JAZZ! sing me your sweet serenade, you dollface, you!
i sooo dig it. |
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