Blues
By Charisse R. Cecil
Inspiration piece
My music, my mood.
Billie and Miles.
Melancholy and mellow.
The berries
in my morning muffin.
His bow-legged, boot-cut,
denim-clad swagger.
The funky-sweet blend
of sweat, liquor, tears and sex
in every foot tap on the juke joint floor.
The bruises that hide
behind Bronze Base #5.
Branford’s band and Spike’s “Mo’ Better.”
B.B. and Lucille.
The Franconia-Springfield metro line.
The steely eyes of young Minister Malcolm’s
devils.
Langston’s weary and big sea.
The Saturday night cabaret voice
Singing in the Sunday morning choir.
Sea -deep sorrow.
A saxophone’s moan.
My hopes,
caked on and cracking
like Aunt Minnesota’s
electric
sky
eye shadow.
Michael Mineiro
Response
————–
SPIRIT OF THE BLUES 盐魂
Michael Mineiro 马明凯
Response
Knock Knock
It is a voice
In the evening, as the people gather
In the city square, local cafes
———————————————————————————–
TWO LEVELS
Being True Being True
I’ve got to be true
To the spirit of the Blues
The Spirit
———————————————————————————–
I’ve got be true
To the sound heard in Hong Kong
At a bar called 64
Six-four, Tiananmen
Ironic, an American
Travels to Asia
To learn the Blues
But I’ve got to be true
It ain’t easy, be true
I finally get it, payin’ one’s dues
It’s all about, being true
True in love
True in work
True to oneself
Others feel it,
Need it
Sense
Be it
———————————————————————————–
Another thought
Lunks to images of busking
In Lan Kwai Fong
Smells, street smells
Hong Kong smells
Of Beer, and laowais
Foolishness, noise
Yet hidden, in the back
People being True