some live jazz with my poem
went on with her morning…mainstream Mondays wanted to change her course passing some cologne without looking up knowing she was smelling hint of something borrowed divorcing herself from any premeditated notions carrying on with a nose for minding her business then there were those paper thin moss and yellow ridges in the wallpaper what was she supposed to do about them beans lounging across the coffee smooth animal skin of the couch glassed mid lane down her face…chilling the mood out her head nodded until she was under and dreaming of humans and places not her places soft voices and high pitches with deep monologues weeping willows…leaves streaming on top of shy currents musicians in syncopation with beards… indigo thumbs nodding and strumming abruptly interrupted by her feet hitting the floor rushing down Mondays path again and flinging back her shoulders only to have her body thrown violently into his looking up in his eyes he apologized catching her buy her shoulders “Miss you alright…I didn’t mean to startle you but will there be a song tonight, will there be another dance and song this evening” she still thought that she was dreaming… but she couldn’t fight it
she didn’t know if she should be trying to escape but was it all of misshapes
A Jones for Rhapsody 
What a magic ride my dear, i love these journey’s of dream like qualities… very imaged based, with colours of jazz floating weaved with silver thread… Yeah, this transports the mind.
James xx
You know…I really hate that I’m not able to keep up with you poetry anymore. I just can’t get you to join in anything else with me…not even for free. Couldn’t you find it in your heart to join a website for FREE even Jim?