Tim McLafferty lives in NYC and works as a drummer. He has played on Broadway in Urinetown, Grey Gardens, and many other interesting places. His work currently appears in many fine journals, including Forge, Painted Bride Quarterly, Pearl, Portland Review, and Right Hand Pointing.
There is jazz, out there, somewhere past, passed
and future. Somewhere there’s music how high,
and out along Eighth Avenue, where people stop
to hear a quarter note, and then another, now slow,
then fast or more slow in the cool dark of early
summer with the fire trucks not fireflies, there is
jazz. And what it sounds like it never knows and
won’t dare to predict. If it were to tell you what it
sounded like, it would stop being jazz, and the
world is full of stop being jazz,
full and overflowing with the stop of being.