An Artist

Satchmo used his instruments.
Some would say he abused them.
He did not handle them with care.
Voice, trumpet, cornet
did not sleep in velvet.

He screamed
in the most heartbreaking way.
He wailed and jubilated.
He provided his soul with a voice.

With his talent, he proved
that any skin may hide
a universe of boundless love and creativity.

Satchmo was raw yet subtle and sensitive.
So was his instrument.
As a musician, and as a person I'm sure,
it is impossible not to adore him.
moreandless moreandless
56-60, M
Nov 24, 2010