An organ quartet

The guy on the Hammond B3 has one de-booted foot (sock still on)
the better for feeling what the keys down there want to tell him
I think he’d rather be barefoot
(the better for skipping small talk)

The guy on drums has a cap at the slightest angle and a jaw ajar
and opens his eyes wide-to-the-max to make sure he can see
each and every molecule shake
and rejoice with them in their shaking

The guy on sax wears a turtleneck and knows real sadness
and real funk too
and asks us to know it with him

The guy on guitar wears a pink neckerchief taking shelter below beard
and multiplies the strings under ecstatic fingers
outdoing Jesus and his fish

no-boot-foot-feeler
cap-angled-molecule-seer
funky-sad-sax-knower
miracle-fingered-multiplier
pour paints into my ears
pour and pour paints
paints whose colors have no names
splattered instantly against the backs of my eyelids
by Mr. Mind the Drummer who splatters patterns out of paints