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the old jazz musician sat wheelchaired on the Denver mall playing for spare change he wore a jaunty plaid fishing hat held his sax at an angle like Prez blowing the ballad "Lover Man."
the white haired southerner his jovial meat red face bulbous nose varicose veined grin crowded into crimson lined flaccid cheeks crisp white shirt and string tie dropped his knee to the concrete brought sparkly blueberry diamond eyes close to the dark leather wingtip face of the sax man
and like a slow patient lover the old country preacher initiated a rhythm smile selling Jesus:
Do you love Him and want Him enough to rise up from your chair to be healed for His Glory? Can you trust in His Love? Rise Up, brother Leave Your Chair this Morning! Stand Up PROUD In His Love! TESTIFY To The Glory Of His Name!
a disciple lime green polyester sport coat over his white wool chain stitch sweater stopped and praise Jesus, hot for the miracle
the jazzman's eyes turned skyward wide open his thick lipped grin grew the disciple and minister each took an arm:
STAND UP! STAND UP!
held erect a moment dead legs bent feet lying helpless under loose ankles his empty knees buckled collapsing all three to the chair spilling the sax on the sidewalk among brown & yellow leaves
Jazz is a creative explosion of individual freedom and communication.
I was first exposed to jazz when I was a kid. My father had a music store.
The best live performance I ever attended was Kenny Garrett in Harlem, New York.
The first jazz record I bought was Saxophone Colossus by Sonny Rollins.
My advice to new listeners is keep listening!