Joseph Torra
from After the Chinese
Bill Corbett Reading “Back and Forth”
John Lewis, poet
of the keyboard
dead. Corbett’s
frame a garage
enough to store
a lake surface
or skyscraper.
Chop herbs mix
mustard clouds
stunted green stalks
dark chocolate earth.
Friends. Family. Foe.
Drink. Talk. Walks.
The world passes
through him. He
opens his mouth
leaves shake, bees
gather honey
become trapped
in nectar. Who
brushes unbroken
summer with pen
and notebook. Each
consonant and
vowel wrung for
all it’s worth. His
voice sails above
the scales! If
he tried jazz
I know he’d be
Master of Sound.