Kind Of Blue By D.R. James

Those tunes sieved the cataract of voices
pummeling a shrapneled consciousness. Blues
turned skeletons into truths; five modals
immuned me to metronomes of collapse,
mercurial spans,.mourning’s corrosion.
Piano, doubled-up sax, snare, bass, and
muted trumpet (always trumpet, always
Miles emitting drowsed webs, palmed filaments,
space-between intricacies, heresies
of feeling) dismissed that lair’s garrison.