Friday, April 13, 2012

layers

you were deep before you knew it,
many exits away from some kind of Satori,
but growing younger by the day,
I met you at the end of a Chet Baker trill,
soon you shot me with Miles Davis staccato,
I patched myself up with Bill Evans' hurt,
and woke up to know,
the soul is made perfect through failing,
like a pristine moment of letting go,
with the heart leading and fear trailing,
like lying awake by the window,
listening to rain ringing off a rusty railing.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

2 comments:

Square Corner said...

Nice. The trill of it all!!

Old Ollie said...

the links to the music really anchor this one -