Mountains to Peak in the Cool Time of a Jazz

For Thomas Neuspiel
on the Occasion of his Thirtieth Birthday

1.

sonorous

a frosty question
prods

the long boat of memory

skimming
the soft swell of a souring sea

what is now
always gone

that quote

and who says what

to suggest less
than prophesy

coming from the hound
sniffing out the bone of youth
deep
inside you

during a business lunch

or
do you simply stand cool
your eyes on empty space

transcending the confidence of disguise

you have enough age to say

hey
I forget
2.

like I mean like I mean like I mean like
the one and onerous quote
frozen about music
there in the cityscape

there is no escape
the chilling notes break
a lightning ten-mile hairline
crack
in the ice cap

like a mean spirit
splashing in a small glass
cool in the hand of an old hand

the spirit ready to hazard
the lips and mouth and throat

in the form of a mean verse
resolute and then discordant

to disperse and then gather
concentration and blast

swinging through the brass coil

hot spittle

collects in the trap

3.

and after climbing to the top of the strain
and while balancing on the pinpoint of melody

all around the angels
sound a clear sky

sure there are clouds
heaps
and hills
the rich reflecting vapour rolling into white
the crossing light of a high sun

sight

on the lee side

down there is a grove

what is that

small movement

below this wind

charging all the years

in this one rising passage around your ears

as you stand
solo
and peak

a true mountaineer
holding fast
against the past

and pondering
what can be done
with this singular
erection
4.

well how much more can there be left of that
kind of fine time
in the face of your aging man's
aging face
cocked
and outward
against this air and harmony
dreaming on the peak
your ski tips
to tip
aloft the potential
that marvelous moment of float

the time skill
holding
holding
holding
and now playing
the blue note

all yours

and it is all yours
and you say baby baby baby
it is all mine
and this air is now still and it is all mine
this tip top rock is now still and it is all mine

this circular-breathed hold on soul is now still and it is all mine
this high line is now still and it is all mine
this heart's howl is now still and it is all mine
this heavenly clock's second hand is now still and it is all mine

and your hand caresses
and caresses and
caresses
the last loving
the last moving
the last fast pulse left
before the moment of small death
in which everything that is now still and all yours is gone
in and out of you

5.

is it
frozen architecture

sonorous
in the frost of the question
prodding memory's long boat
skimming in and out like the sound of an inaccurately held
high sea

for what is now
gone
is not gone forever

all will return
like an old song
that will not quit
your head

because you are older now

and who says what
to suggest less
than the nagging sound of the hound
sniffing the youth
out

or
are you simply
standing cool
now that you have enough age

to say

hey
I forget