Thinking Jazz

By BZ Niditch

A club for my sax gig
becomes grape ripe
one cannot forget
migratory streets
passages of melody,
myth or math
like alembic distills
at the right hour
on the leaf jacket
almost spills its secrets
nor singed
your new verse
signed with lips
of anticipation
burning through
historic and Doric
revolutionary graves
once blind alleys
now there are
no foreign bodies
or initiate tongues
who do not know you.

 

—–

BZ NIDITCH is a poet, playwright, fiction writer and teacher. His work is widely published in journals and magazines throughout the world, including: Columbia: A Magazine of Poetry and ArtThe Literary ReviewDenver QuarterlyHawaii ReviewLe Guepard (France); Kadmos (France); Prism InternationalJejune (Czech Republic); Leopold Bloom (Budapest);  Antioch Review; and Prairie Schooner, among others. He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts.


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