MORTON’S BEAT POEM (APRIL 2015) 

one fall night at about 2 AM, i was crossing union square in NYC to get to the subway. i passed the coolest guy i had ever seen: a black dude in dark sunglasses, leaning against a wall while playing the most lonesome saxophone i’d ever heard. there was a full moon and i felt the notes practically vibrate my bones. i put a few dollars in his saxophone case, and he gave me a slow but wide grin. on the subway home i just had to put some words down about it. if the layout above is confusing, here it is in simple text: 

like hot brass, buttery gold
thick like blonde fudge, 
it illuminates the night air
with layered rays of bronze reflection.
five clear notes ring out: 
shake the branches, stir the heart, 
they cry out. 
molten sounds turn shrill 
and pierce, long and slow,
like a howl at the moon