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Big Band Theory

Big Band Theory

With the loudest possible cymbal crash, the universe

springs forth from the tiniest womb, a primordial

black hole, the mother of god


and criminals.  Yin & yang are there from the start,

being formed in the sour crack between lonely half-steps

tinkled on an ol’ blues piano.


After banjos get created in the guts of supernovas,

the brasses wah-wah, walls quake & shake, dancers

fall on their knees.   Praise the lord, halleluia!


Doc Gravity and his Einstein Wonders a-sweatin’

and jumpin’ for three minutes of magic tune, the good doc

pumpin’ the rhythm, drivin’ folks out the door


for air.   An atmosphere of rapture fills the room,

fills the lungs; division of the saxes take place

right there on the bandstand, as we twirl and sashay


amidst bear, eagle & elk, flood-waters & porpoises,

slippin’ & slidin’ with the funereal dixie ‘bones,

cuttin’ the ragtime residue of an ever-expanding universe.


Posted 11/23/15
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