beyond kind of blue—an open letter to miles davis
1. summer 1982 —miles davis at pier 84 nyc
a. young kids with junk eyes standing on their seats shirts open bare chests waitin' to hear Miles looking thru heaven with their pinned baby blues the 15 year old chain smoker keeps blowing it my way thru my breathless timeless nostrils they're all growing their first wild dark dangerous hairs i pull on my 17 year old moustache & wonder where i'll be & why i sit calmly neck craned this won't be no blue sketches or 7 steps 'round midnight but it will be played to a full house of mostly baby blues a fat man in a baby blue shirt walks up & down the percussion strewn stage doin' a sound check thru the bell of miles' trumpet pick up mike attached by a thin black thread so that Miles can play with his back to us & still be heard through his impatient hunched paced excitement baby blue dividers gently swell with wind & subside like trumpet cheeks transforming running sound like cool water rather than broken words & then the announcer says "good evening....in 2 or 3 more minutes we'll have MILES DAVIS" as the baby blue sky blushes with oncoming night
b. monster miles mainly miles music miles it's miles' thing stripped down static whispers he knows but doesn't know knows but he doesn't know knows what to do with all he knows HE KNOWS mostly miles blowing miles we love you miles because you're miles all those moments of miles a mellow motion screaming miles pluckin miles nobody knows how to bend a note like miles funkin miles bendin the brains of those burnt baby blues smokin miles muscle miles mighty miles all that sense of space night comes on slow sky blush blue miles wears a baby blue embroidered cap mercy miles it's all you miles all with miles & the cameras the cameras more cameras than a president requires president miles citizen miles living miles winding miles winding black snake moan & we're all excited miles really reved up so many horns have blown with miles birds & tranes go on for miles & miles survives the miles broken miles battered bent & brutal miles muted miles crazy gone mysterious miles money miles mad mad miles we shake our bodies just for miles blow eternal taps for miles eternal speeding miles the cup runneth over for miles fluid miles motion miles notion miles ocean miles bottled bubbly baby miles the miles of baby blue windows by the pier watching miles miles of music your way miles history lesson miles slowly hysterical miles wave your hands & stick that tongue out miles happy cool hot hot miles with my shirt open i stand on my seat & whoop for miles smiling miles laughing miles angry miles playful miles grabs the sax player's fingers & twists monster guitarist invented by miles heavy conga solo sings for miles a pause & miles is watching open mouthed mouth open miles the sun is waiting for miles to set for miles to end the set the sun is waiting the miles of sun the round orange sun conga round skin the faces of men miles of faces of miles of round sun faces the set the sudden the set the sudden the jolt the sun it's ok miles keep playin miles it was nothin just a... sharp sudden pain an unseen screeeeeech take that finger from your ear & BLOW MILES BLOW breezy miles helicopter miles musing miles basic miles bouncy miles this is miles much more miles & miles & miles the sun sets with MILES with miles with miles the sun sets with miles with MILES............
steve dalachinsky
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