Jesus is running late.
Government hesitant to let him into country.
Visa approved and disapproved.
El es de Cuba.
Jesus is finally in,
embarking on a U.S. tour.
Jazz player of great intellect and sorcery,
he is a faucet,
a river,
a flood of music.
Heart grabbing, “blue” Cuban Jazz.
His left hand pounds staccato chords,
his right hand flies up and down the keyboard.
Insistent rhythms of Cuba,
heard by Jazz souls yearning to be saved.
(A 'found poem' inspired by an article written about pianist Jesus Valdez...)
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