@evan.fleischer 21 November 2019

Woke Up This Morning Sunlight on my voice brings out the taste of the last last night, the final over-the-shoulder look before the plunge into the post-blues flow, a Mississippi River dried to dusty air where riverboat musicians honk zombie gas into mouthpieces, reeds, and plastic cups with the hole cut out of the bottom and held up to the mouth, a trumpet improvised out of charm and out of a place that does not keep the dead.