smoky underground sounds

of free spirits of the street

fill the Harlem air.

it's improv, it's in the pocket

hands, fingers and mouths 

breathing life, it's the

birth of the cool,

cool notes of jazz.

drum lays down the beat 

that pumps the bass 

that drives the rhythm

Miles and 'Trane free-blowing

blowing out blue note

messages to the street. 

Monk in full flow, flowing 

blood through red-hot veins

the sound of jazz

on sweltering summer nights 

feeds the soul of the city.