Monday, January 5, 2009

Bass Swing (Poem 4/30 - 1/4/2009)

E string vibrating into his skin
Nerves tingle to the sound
Tips fly across fingerboards
To keep the perfect beat

He's the core of music:

A sweet baritone syncopation.

He fills my lips with rhythm
'Til they burst in scats
His clef inches from my heart's metronome.

I want him to love me
In first-half arpeggios
Because I don't wanna come back down
To see
Love in another key.


(Inspired by the abundance of string basses/bass guitars I saw in Nashville. Also inspired by the jazz music playing in the car as I texted this poem to life.)

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