Blue Notes Poem by James Mills
Blue Notes
Bar-room murmurs a dripping beat,
loud with sounding brass
and heavy metal thunder.
Lightening up in perfumed clouds
of illicit smoke
we badmouth in street talk
this lifeless life.
Poor art. Poor you. Poor me.
Pour me. Pour over me
in liquid waves
falling scales of
blue, blue notes.
Time runs
at thirty three and a third,
scratching out our dusty soundtrack.
Fading into terrific
silence.
Can't fault this Jimmy. Great stuff. So evocative and in the tone of blues...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 10:30:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
what a great atmosphere you spin here...can just hear the music. -Tailor