A black note growing through the night,
A pause that suddenly begins to dance,
Staccato silence bouncing in the smoke,
returns the note back home.
arranging charts and changes.
No notes caressing the melody,
but pushing the structured ranges.
Black notes that soulfully swing and bend,
brown sugar hips that seduce and burn.
Jazz is like hip hop, it’s nighttime poetry,
Improvising richness through urban poverty.
C.2021, Francesc Bravo Cabrera, 02 AUG 2021, Turkey