Trumpet

 

“Jazz Trumpet” by David Ridley

 

mellow tone

yellowed artistry

burnished by brass

bending air

curving sound

to the ear

that wants only to hear

an exalted b-flat

transposition resolve

equal temperament

lithe intonations

climb agile among

rich harmonics

resounding in

bold stunning register

carried of voices

that speak every

human expression

convey every

audibly palpable mood

a phenomenal range

of intensity vibrates

impossibly reaching

across seven c’s

gifts of aperture

embouchure

shaping the pitch

tending timbre

with resonant

rounded fat vowels

legatos of grief

keening deep

in the bowels

of quivering marrow

or sharp pointed

consonant spears

fierce staccatos

delivering triple-tongue

violent fears

piercing heights of

unreachable frequency

able to shatter

tall biblical walls

but for me in my time

in full blood of my prime

it was part of me

metal flesh pulsing

with passion for jazz

sultry organon instrument

warm to the hand

to the lips

with intoxicant taste

of a hundred-year history

bourbon street beale street

and twelfth street

then down along

eighteenth and vine

in the speakeasies

blues joints and supper clubs

inside and underneath

downtown and uptown

manhattan chicago

saint louis detroit

music made from

the ravage and rapture

indigenous forms

never twice played the same

ever born in

the bellies of moments

free-breathing

free-feeling

free-flying

interpreted improvised

given to no one

yet everyone knows that

this worn golden horn is the

terrible wonderful grail

of authentic emotion