After Wayne Shorter Your fierce tone Moved in silent ways, Ambient jazz soldier, Your ghost hangs Like a long held note, Like some slow breath Over me tonight, As I spin your Records in Funeral wake, Remembering, Remembering, As your carefully Chosen lines Etch out a small Piece of sky Where you sit, Now, Perhaps sipping Tea, Or blowing With 'Trane, Ayler, Sanders and Many more Saxophone poets, Gone now, Yet eternally Here.
About the Author: Ted Jackins is a poet and musician living in a small town in North Carolina with his wife and 17 year old cat. They’re work has previously appeared in Red Fez, Zygote In My Coffee, Blotterature, Citizens For Decent Literature, Black Out Zine, and Outlaw Poetry. He is the author of the chapbook Psych Ward Blues (Alien Buddha Press).
Image Credit: Digitally altered public domain image of a saxophone, courtesy of Wikimedia.
As It Ought To Be 
