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daniel gray kontar
home (for charlie parker)
in flight. wind makes
my bird speech, a stutter.
the sky opens its mouth.
i am eaten by freedom -
my wings waving you
goodbye.
self beside self.
inside the world. against
the world.
this blue-ness;
i am its linguist.
a stuttering blue-bird
lost in sky.
it could even be the sea.
i become elemental.
a body of knowledge.
sky inhaling me
like pell mell’s.
i have no land.
my home in heaven.
i play saxophone for money.
pharoah’s return
stepping into the light,
the medicinal missionary of groove
chomping at the modal bit.
another constellation born.
the notes bouncing, 808 bassing
through the milky way.
a saturn child dressed like neptune,
cursing alien space ships
invading galaxies unknown.
brother man, speaking in gutteral
utterings, sputtering new translations
of st. charlie and apostle john birks --
the dizzy anachronistic funketeer, hisself.
and you stars chillin at minton’s on the moon
like you ain’t never had a close encounter
this kind. better take yr selves to The Street
if you want yr drinks on ice.
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