A Poem by Jerry Ward

(for those who contemplate the bird and the word)

we woke death
this morning, lady
                Lady Day and day
                day say day say
                the sun's too loud
we heard the warm, lady
the cric-crac of dawn and
heard the unheard
                                                hearable in the Fielder drums
                                                of burning instructions for angel wings
wings, wings, wings, wings
blushing the parchment
                       the drums at the windows in our ears
                drums  --  boom, boom, b-o-o-m
                bebop boom
                slipping under
                do-wah boom
                swinging under
                Jitterbug Waltz boom
                sliding under
                Max Roach boom
                seething under
                boom of  Blue Monk boom
                                                                                gone (like it blew my mind)
straight (and pure) no chaser
gone, gone like a
straightandpurenochaserlove, lady because
it is
a love supreme, a love supreme, a love supreme
                                                                      and still deep
and still lovely
as Stella by Starlight, as Mood Indigo as the straying horn
                                                                                                       horn done gone
and the wailing sax
is, just now is
the M-Boom and Dirty Dozen Brass Band
banded in the long run,
the longlong run/ and quest
for the ornithology that is
no more, is no more or less
than is the bird, the holy hawk
poised in prayer
and still his sound
in the ark/ dancing in the dark
and lady,
lady, the day and the bird's here
to stay
          stay in our corner
         day say, day say
         the sun's too loud
        for dying

Jerry W. Ward, Jr.  (poem from the 1980s reformatted on January 11, 2019)

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