When our two souls stand up erect and strong / Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher / Until the lengthening wings break into fire / At either curvèd point,—what bitter wrong / Can the earth do to us, that we should not long / Be here contented? Think. In mounting higher / The […]

Do that thing, jazz band! / Whip it to a jelly / Sock it; rock it; heat it; beat it; then fling it at ‚em / Let the jazz stuff fall like hell on king and truck driver, queen and laundress, lord and laborer, banker and bum (Amok Amor, poem by Frank Marshall Davis)

Then you came along / With your siren song / To tempt me to madness (Mette Rasmussen, poem by Billy Strayhorn)