I didn’t watch the news.

By not watching,
I make new news
the way “Flamenco Sketches”
takes us almost to Andalusia
or woodsmoke
draws us back to the tree,
the forest.

Avoidance isn’t denial.
It’s an art that refreshes time;
gives us time to roam the galaxies
within the words
mind and soul and heart.

This afternoon,
I stretched out on my bed,
plugged in my earbuds,
closed my eyes to listen
to Coltrane, A Love Supreme;
then Miles, Kind of Blue.

An inner peace opens;
an inner space,
vast as outer space,
where galaxies of words,
like galaxies of stars,
go on for light years.

I didn’t watch the news.

I stretched out on my bed,
closed my eyes, and listened
to Coltrane and to Miles

Page 327

and dug new galaxies
within the words
mind and soul and heart.
And Love and Blue.

Page 328


Authors:

Tom Gibbs

Tom Gibbs is a poet and independent scholar who has previously published in Clio’s Psyche. He may be reached at .

How to Cite This:

Gibbs, T. (2023). Jazz repose [poem]. Clio’s Psyche, 29(3), 347-348.

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