Poem: Nighthawks Through The Years

Jackson, Brooks, Porter; the twenties’ best creators.

Their work lives on all thanks to boardwalk empire and the aviator.

Jazz is dated, get lost, you’ll never make it last.”

Can’t think of a better comeback than:“There’s a future in the past.”

Punk “music,” rap, never again; those terrors should be dismembered.

What a night it always is, in fact I still remember

first hearing them at nine years old, Sophia’s at twelve. I’ve since

been introduced to Molly and met Andy, Dan, and Vince.

Iguana ended with the pandemic, and better earlier than late;

Bond 45, hello old friend, still I don’t believe in fate.

That ended in about six months, so sudden, feeling shook.

Though soon enough came Birdland, every night completely booked.

Some of these days,

you’ll simply have to come and see their shows.

Their music is the best around, dare I say:

anything goes.

Although we’ve since had to say goodbye to Ponella, Salvo, and Block

here’s to one hundred years of traditional jazz and forty eight years of the nighthawks.

*In memory of Ken Salvo

Odysseus Moss
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