But In sharp contrast –
A plan eludes us
We’re rowing surreptitious
circles while we think.
There’s nothing; the angry stench –
Failure has a smell
It swims beneath you and then
gobbles you right up.
Luckily, the sea –
The last stanza lifts
Like ocean waves I’m tossed and
turned back, angry, new.
I can’t swim quite yet.
Most times, I can tread water.
Jazz is kind of hard.
As I gain experience playing and performing, I find myself looking for different things in the music I’m making. I think for most of my improvising career, I have felt like I was underwater MOST of the time. Maybe I’m not underwater any longer, and I’m not jumping and doing flips, but I can tread and breathe in most situations.
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