IMPROVISATION

Keyboard whispers
a smooth jazz
bewilders and reminisces
on a string of roses
over riffs of fever petals
in language of desert flowers
rising again on funerals
of celebrating a poet's birth
on morning glories of doves
in the crowns of Evergreens
by silent memory of sixty wounds
crucified in two hours of torture
on a long round table
of a child who was different
than the others
and lived for clumsy art
silk pastels and made up comedy
yet we still hear four cathedral bells
struck by the lights of city square
waiting for someone to match
its eternal saving candles
now gone out on empty ravines
of the wounded and wandered
in the hunger of the desert
when the night wind gathers
up prayers of unknown incense
on a deserted astonishing grave
where wild roses suddenly grow
as handfuls of ash are scattered
over unwavering sand.