Chet Baker in Japan Ravaged Chet Baker, Junkie prince of jazz, Searching for a vein Under Tokyo’s neon, The blue narco-moon A tattooed yakuza, A gleaming katana, Samurai shadows In clubland alleys, (Death could intervene, Like a deal gone wrong), Chet blowing a pure And improvised Zen, Spare riffs of beauty, The velvet of his voice Like mist on the harbour, The timbre of moon-drench On Mt Fuji’s screes— Then, My Funny Valentine’s Harmonics dissolving, All the songs collapsing Into a long dark night. Rod Moran
Subscribe to get access to all online articles
Already a member?
Sign in to read this article