The agent of algorithm,
Relishing his rich, forsaking seriousness.
his cylinders of steel excised with circles.
his virtuosic ventriloquy runs deep.
The Eager Eclectic, blustering with vitality.
beyond the borough, with bits and blades,
his life overlapped with the clink of coins.
The indie Diehard,
With a rush of periwinkle, and not a bit of guts.
a Rumba in Rhythms with a dry plucked sound.
his hot hues simple, but crucial.
And the dry-eyed elegy’s sonic splendor.
in the ecstatic emptiness, an evening of encores.
and behind his wood walled jacking groove,
a blues soaked, free swingin’ edge