yeah the trees
oh those trees
with the rhythm of the woods
and the taste of everything
calling like a downbeat

wandering
wandering wide
lift it up like a crown
40 years worth of crowns
floating by so fast

desert fast time waltz into the void of everything
into the thickness of the deepness
of woods and crown
and smiles and the coolness of your flesh

trees and streets
avenues not yet found
city and desert up and down
country and town raveled up
in what you got when you were a child
toys and flowers

down beat
down the street
grooving and crying
living and dying
life and death

breath and whispers
wandering in your
magnificent mind
for moments for hours
with the taste of everything

cuba baby its all we got as we talk
about it in murmurs if minute jazz smiles
so cool so blue so real with that uplift
from the downbeat of life itself
that wails and blows like message
in the boughs nature and the nearness of stars

the words of your flesh
the tears that fell
like liquid lead on your sheets
on long lonely hot nights

with coffee and daffodils
and rainbows of your being a kid
visions of coffins and meadows
cans of beans and jelly jars
filled with nervous nourishment
milk and forgotten dates

hoping that no one would knock
on your wall to disturb the rhythm
of your sheets and golden crowns
heavy with those leaden tears

so where are you going
with that suitcase containing
diamonds and stars so close
to memories of lost ancestors?

where can g-d find you
after all these 40 years
wandering in the footsteps
of haystacks dressed
in gingham or denim or wood
shavings of golden stars?

in jazz kid only in jazz
on the street or meadow
in death or mellowness of life
g-d will find you whole and safe
with the rest of us lonely and wounded
jazz angels who shed skin and footsteps