Le Jazz Wet

Painting by Ward Jenkins

I was listening to the musical clip on Alex Shapiro's site, NOTES FROM THE KELP, this morning, and it stirred me up. The clip was titled Hot Mud @ 1:51.

Le Jazz Wet

Your Hot Mud moved me
and helped me to realize
jazz sustains us,
fills in the gaps,
puts character and texture
softly driven
into the core
of our world weary
hardened hearts.

Here in the northwest dampness,
jazz is the toddy,
the playmate, the friend,
the lover—
and it goes with everything;
fireplaces aglow,
cedar scent thick in the air,
as wind and rain
pelt the panes
and black and white cats
press their warm noses
against cold glass.

Jazz is the perfect companion,
for red wine or white wine,
dry or sweet,
mingling with it—
or any meat,
prime rib or spaghetti;
jazz is the spice, the glaze, the au poivre,
the aural transcendent—
stirring the emotions,
joy or grief,
philosophy or diatribe.

Jazz goes down hot
and scalding,
only to transform to cool
within our husks,
our aura,
our sphere,
midships between naval and nose,
stirring soul, sparking love,
shattering malaise—
for jazz is the daring dart
that pierces the gloom
and pours vibrant colors
into the weave of the loom.

Glenn A. Buttkus August 2008