AN IDEA OF IMPROVISATION WITH THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE—Take X
towards a freer jazz with ashes buried under some trees by a ¿dead? cat in a different key
I shrug and enter
what are not shrubs
but maybe a bramble
of sharp edged petals
that seem to shield fruit
which perhaps function
—beloved—as chromatic points
but not a pentatonics
of The Blackberries
singing of a loss
I might lapse
into and risk crimson
not knowing
if a light note later
the hidden position
of a thorn section
could tincture the i
or for a time conjugate
any tidal desire dug
by Kearney from a pond
in a Pointillist tone poem
which begs tailoring
on the fringes by Cécile
or Nate or Cecil pleating
theories of jazz
we failed to scan
from “Le Front Cache”
or even the knees
of a more natural man
or Haitian woman, yet
keep modeling or yodeling—
our speech not a performance
—beyond the velocity
of wavy phrases
or sleepy Harriet mulling
over a syntax of velvet
deities that Apophenia—
our mellow diva—
drreams to bray or splay
how bananas it could be
if they’re yellow berries
or genetic diagrams
of spiral walls around
viral Gardens of Truth
but maybe just feel
like a trio of Winter Leaves
shading or abrading
my parakeet feathers
to color what appears
as loss or seems lost
to appearances if I fail
to peel my berried desire
with a silence bladed
nearly to the point
of a sound science?
