The Poetry Foundation has a web site that offers poems on line, and I’ve spent a little time browsing their archive for poems about music. Why? I don’t actually know. Normally I have a tin ear for poetry. But I like this one, and I hope they don’t mind that I post it here, in hopes of encouraging other people to check out the other poems in their archive.
Photo of Miles Davis at Lennies-on-the-Turnpike, 1968, by Cornelius Eady
New York grows
slimmer
in his absence.
I suppose
you could also title this picture
of Miles, his leathery
squint, the grace
in his fingers a sliver of the stuff
you can’t get anymore,
as the rest of us wonder:
what was the name
of the driver
of that truck? And the rest
of us sigh:
death is one hell
of a pickpocket.
[TJH]
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