I know of such a place

where train tunnels are not always engulfed in darkness, where time rambles on tracks and meadows stay forever green only sometimes they become coated with yellowed snow to rejoice the coming of a European winter. Such a place I know of where you could freely run away from any catch twenty-two, where you could still be…

The Anti Bugle Call Rag

Such sobriety in the court where these kids played ball. It’s impossible to hear any gratifying bugle call or those subtle syncopated symphonies. Am I one to proclaim youth as phony? Look. Monotones can never be swank tunes, they are merely unrefined masterpieces of loons. Clad in black with anarchic unison, boorish teens gather among this white noise,…