(the world around you, never catches up with you)
1.
breath support, fakin,
risin,
tides shiftin round,
unfoldin, evolvin moments
by moments
Mr. Blue Bus
imagined some tune
while picking up his horn,
lighter notes hardly mattered
blasted echoes reappear
John Handy fadin away into the nighttime Saturday melodies of anythings possible,
high low no difference
and theres Eric's alto,
his hometown point of reference,
wanted highs so blessed the flute
found its holy breath streak,
okay now lower
picks up a bass clarinet for explorin the bottoms,
the support,
the mellow gruff of truly being down
all the while in motion…
2.
"then please clarify just what music does that is unique?", we asked.
possibly to point out, Leo says,
or rather to emphasize by counterpoint
life perpetually movin
deakin the other guys
explorin possible openings,
keys for free,
bop rhythms all the while
rushin to the top
for trimmins
3.
no givin a shit
as long as its there!
trailins so easy
with Handy on flute
on Eros,
sweet day blooms
give take soon,
that electricitys still a friend
inside one huge solar boom
4.
years later
almost don’t know like flailin,
here, have a happiness reefer,
have have can have
all by turnin another light on,
all by goin wherever things will
to their own
that constant humm of
"ahh glad to meet ya
im alive too",
us all here on this road
where all trails lead everywhere,
where decisions just fade back to wherever they came from,
where songs get uttered once in a while as secrets are told
like gettin smacked with ocean's wet breeze,
remember?
5.
oit dont matter how it falls…
so once in a while paths get disclosed
clear off a shade reflect,
so see whats goin onnn, bud,
haz ta,
ta keep
intouch
and thaz the way light melts past the night,
constant flight,
right here in the air
where on earth
this iz ittttt
then nowz the time
inside Erics liltin voice
liftin as some too brilliant Sunday morn sunrise…
and in what keys do his free fallin take ye too
as this superb light reflects welcomingly into yr dark room ya
think ya know
then to return to confess more…?
6.
so this a clear vision past
sailin into the stretch of fire
reawakenin its wooden victims
into complete horizontal pools,
jus another view
an additional perspective
skatin across this waterfallz prismic syncopated pond,
utterly inevitable
to slide
on by
1972, STL