Reading Maldoror on the 
Sick bed.
Ha ha a gorgeous antidote 
The drawing shows bloody storms at sea in the caspian 
Or black or Baltic 
Better still those far seas
Without names
The weird ones in distant planets
Where old Prez played such
A lovely romantic song
On his horn
He’d walked along chipped
Stone sidewalks 
In towns all over the shop
His hat brim
Turned up
Probably knew about creative writing
Melodies and the tone 
Of the instrument 
Then harking back to extremely mellow
Almost indifferent 
Times way way back
Thinking of that caspian 
The rolling waves under the
The planks beautifully crafted
Under the sleek and whale belly
The prince of skim surf 
Back then sailors maybe had
A word for chortle
Talking to themselves as they
Ride the high seas
Heading for jade trades
And valuable spice etc
Pirates of course

Incidentally Lee Konitz
Moved away from modern jazz after bebop and embraced free improv
I seen him at London improvised music festival 
A couple times in the 80s!!!
Ha ha so nice to see the jump
No more jump...

Hail Net’!!!

And best in the coughing times 


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