THE COLTRANE IN YOU BLACK RENAISSANCE NOIRE An attempt to solve for the resolve in Resolution. You raise a brass scepter sanctifying the thick hipped logic of the upright bass as twin sticks cross, but these cymbals have the shimmer of symbols that are unseen. You honk, squeal, squeak and then find a groove in unison, E pluribus unum, wind boxed into a syntax of euphony. Oaken notes pour cursive smoke in Pursuance of form, drifting spirits that prey on rhythm to blue all ayes. Nimbus, nimbus says the notation scrawled in the Psalms of your hands, but can even the nimblest fingers play so cumulus accord? Shall we ask an Irish Orisha? Notes float and conflate with what was imagined as almost wholly writ: your solo redemption those digressions of the downbeat raining, raining . . . 111 wonders if riffs you dream could redeem what you try to play, if untaken notes could be token. Once lightheaded you fear even if those notes reign, some umbrellas might remain unopened. Wonders if Faith means melody forever moistening a mouthpiece, why therefore you pray for Quartets rooted in a night braided chord always raveling. Say the embouchure of Desire beckons from a double bed in a bitter suite as an incensed rope of smoke muscles music out of hunger. Doesn’t every untangling tongue wish to probe the pouty mouth of Imagination? Say a naked triad tempts the rhythm. An organ swells. The key motif is all things in modulation, how therefore to be drawn like a steel bridge to the prudence of the piano; before changing the lock, to change the key. What is any Acknowledgement but praise scything bright as the light of a quarter moon?