When I listen to jazz
Hot like seeping tea
As it cools like coffee directly in front of me

All I see is the ocean
All I hear is the swishing sound of the sand being turned to glass
Beneath the feet of an unwalking rhythm

Unwaking and amiss
Good jazz doesn’t walk a straight line as this
It’s a drunken rhythm and a deep sip
In love with the indescribable, naturural, eternal bliss