the jazz of my words

I want to roll with
the jazz of my words
popping lightly–
finger snaps
or high heels on concrete
tapping a beat
that makes me sway
spoken music

let strength and snap
pour from my mouth
in a cadence felt from the toes up

yes,
I am walking poetry today–
I woke with this poem
writing itself alive
before eyes open

words that kick
like unsweetened espresso
in a rhythm played with brushes
not sticks, on those drums
I call ears.

***updated to add “Don’t Blame Me,” Thelonious Monk, 1966

Wrote this last summer, and it seems to fit with Gay’s prompt today over at dVerse.