A Jazz in Bronze

A Jazz in Bronze


a dawn of bronze and jazz
swells
in the shark’s dream tongue

waking to the sun’s seduction

licking the sun’s fragile neck,

I remember
the southern sea breeze
and dream women
who teach geography
and know the language of tribes;

songs and maps
burned last night,

turned to ash,
ash only I offered
to a tree of crucifixions-
all this
in poet’s alley;

shark music in my body
and sun’s dark drug
in her blouse,

the secret of the dawn
lies in my kiss.

Who falls upon the wet fields of jazz?
Who falls like martyr or addict?

Who is it that calls now
for souls of murdered poets?

I hear the earth’s first poet,
who forged words
in the vaults of his body

I hear our feet devour the sun

I hear the hour that comes now
shall begin the age of secrets;

and every day at dawn,

poems of bronze
shall tempt the sharks.