Through the sky without wings.
Bullets of passion.
Penetrate and detonate
In a chasm.
Then, a trumpet hyperventilates,
Axes the sax while
Drum beats commingle and conflate
Rhythm to a pitch beyond reach.
Who needs words when notes congregate?
Says the guitar as it mates and
Escalates the screech.
No boundaries, limits or rules
This ode of shotgun trills
Illumines and transcends