Ted Croner Music from her breast, vibratingSoundseared into burnished velvet.Silent hips deceiving fools.Rivulets of trickling ecstacyFrom the alabaster pools of JazzWhere music cools hot souls.Eyes more articulately silentThan Medusa's thousand tongues.A bridge of eyes, consenting smilesreveal her presence singingOf cool remembrance, happy ballsWrapped in swingingJazzHer music...Jazz. Poem: "jazz chick" by BOB KAUFMAN
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