In the oblique stagelight moon,He, closing his weary raven eyes,Lips puckered, lifts his trumpet.On a breath, deep from his lungs,A burst, a single improvised note,Rises, from the arteries of his soul,Free to the bell’s silver flair height,He teases melodic notes with rhythmic complexity,A fluttering, a dense chord progression Arrhythmic split tone, cross-rhythm phrases,Daring liberties with

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