Round About Midnight (Bob Kaufman Poem)
Jazz radio on a midnight kick, Round about Midnight. Sitting on the bed, With a jazz type chick Round about ...
Jazz radio on a midnight kick, Round about Midnight. Sitting on the bed, With a jazz type chick Round about ...
Music from her breast, vibrating Soundseared into burnished velvet. Silent hips deceiving fools. Rivulets of trickling ecstacy From the alabaster ...
Where the string At some point, Was umbilical jazz, Or perhaps, In memory, A long lost bloody cross, Buried in ...
You might come here Sunday on a whim. Say your life broke down. The last good kiss you had was ...
(And I, I am no longer of that world) Naked, he lies in the blinded room chainsmoking, cradled by drugs, ...
in the soft jazz and midnight hour your eyes are dancing close to mine a sway of hips, a touch ...
When I die I don't care what happens to my body throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East ...
For Carl Solomon I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves ...
It was at Night that I learned the most about that magical place that dark and smoky, shadowed and garish ...
A hushed purple trumpet hangs heavy on its vine, held by the connections, the hooks the nature of itself, wet ...
The Big Easy A world away From home My ears rang and sang With the loud jazz music The jumbalaya ...
Bright noisy streets Unattached and watching The jazz, the sass, The Street, Bourbon Late April Thick with tourists Easy marks ...
Sneakers of mud Squish between my toes Move to the music Unhinge my spine Rain upon me Don't have a ...
Heads snap at the Yankee white boy Anachronistic and jarring Tie dyed top hat Garish and loud Quilted and heavy ...
A plate of small hot beignets coated in a snow squall of light powdered sugar a dense cup of oh ...
EVERYTHING is jazz: snails, jails, rails, tails, males, females, snow-white cotton bales. Knee-bone, thigh, hip-bone. Jazz slips you percussion bone ...
Lid's on, steam's risin': collard greens, Lord, bubblin' JAZZ! That's appetizin'. (James A. Emanuel)
He dug what she said: bright jellies, smooth marmalade spread on warm brown bread. "Jazz" from drowsy lips orchids lift ...
Stairstep music: ups, downs, Bill Robinson smiling, jazzdancing the rounds. She raised champagne lips, danced inside banana hips. All Paris ...
Four-letter word JAZZ: naughty, sexy, cerebral, but solarplexy. (James A. Emanuel)
Nothin very bad happen to me lately. How you explain that? â?"I explain that, Mr Bones, terms o' your bafflin ...
We real cool. We Left School. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz ...
1. A conversation begins with a lie. and each speaker of the so-called common language feels the ice-floe split, the ...
Here lies a bloke who's just gone West, A Number One Australian; He took his gun and did his best ...
Nothing extends a phone call more effectively than saying you're on your way out but she wants to tell you ...
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