With a voice of jazz

With a voice of jazz angels speak,
passing their melodies inexplicable
over the ears of many.

In distaste and confusion some falter
and turn away.

In contempt and utter preference
others turn away;
for broth.

Innocence and the same pure colors
shared with skies across occasions
yearly and numerous
are my gift.

I am sustained by pigments
but I long not for the pigments of painters.

I am sustained by the pigments
that I see when I listen
to the voice of jazz.

I am sustained by the pigments
that begin where colors end
and the angels lift their voices
to speak.