B.Z. Niditch- A Poem

IMPROVISATION

Just at the moment
the dusk sun hits
the red brick
on the new year
by my sound proof studio
the latent fog dissipates
its rain pouring tear
at a now loveless last memory
from off the Bay
and a jazz player
stands by an open window
on the basement floor
in the dim electric light
for a time such as this
between two flat notes,
seasons, hours,moons
humming with ignominy
the same exercises
always with the repeated
sinking sadness of an E flat
dying for the snow kissing reed
of a lost urchin's voice
who is still a runaway adolescent
dreaming verses
from palpitating nights
of the human alto sax
waiting for my cool soundings
to open up at my gig
beyond the city limits.