(Ravi Coltrane plays the Cape May Jazz Festival November 2009)
He uncorked a storm-shack of jazz.
Ravi steps outside into nameless squalls.
The band holds together a four minute house.
Each member plays just enough blues
to anchor a loose roof and walls.
Plinking piano paint-less planks and swish drum shades stains
the bass sliding rhythm that rolls up the rugs.
Ravi waits, just off curtain-side, a batter on deck
holds his sax practicing and wringing his hands.
A jumper, he rocks to re-enter the double-dutch swing.
Ravi steps back in slapping of a screen side door closed
nailed down and brings home the storm, under the eaves.
Half steps notes dissonant long for order exposed
bits of blown sounds scatter become twisters of leaves.
Just over the threshold, a tornado swirls inside the joint.
Suddenly making sense, Ravi refuses then breaks
semi-tones ominously repeated, a short thunder charge.
Back and forth faint strained improvisation fight
chaos leans back against clear harmony and sudden as change
comes calm, abruptly ends and switches off the light.
