by Quincy Troupe

1.

that day began with a shower

of darkness， calling lightning rains

home to stone language

of thunderclaps， shattering， the high

blue， elegance， of space & time

where a broken-down， riderless， horse

with frayed wings

rode a sheer bone， sunbeam

road， down into the clouds

2.

spoke wheels of lightning jagged

around the hours， & spun high up

above those clouds， duke wheeled

his chariot of piano keys

his spirit， now， levitated from flesh

& hovering over the music of most high

spoke to the silence

of a griot-shaman-man

who knew the wisdom of God

3.

at high noon， the sun cracked

through the darkness， like a rifle shot

grew a beard of clouds on its livid， bald

face， hung down， noon， sky high

pivotal time of the flood-deep hours

as duke was pivotal， being a five in the nine

numbers of numerology

as his music was one of the crossroads

a cosmic mirror of rhythmic gri-gri

4.

so get on up & fly away duke， bebop

slant & fade on in， strut， dance swing， riff

& float & stroke those tickling， gri-gri keys

those satin ladies taking the A train up

to harlem， those gri-gri keys

of birmingham， breakdown

sophisticated ladies， mood indigo

get on up & strut across， gri-gri

raise on up， your band's waiting

5.

thunderclapping music， somersaulting

clouds， racing across the deep， blue wisdom

of God， listen， it is time for your intro， duke

into that other place， where the all-time great

band is waiting for your intro， duke

it is time for the Sacred Concert， duke

it is time to make the music of God， duke

we are listening for your intro， duke

so let the sacred music， begin