His / eyes are / so closed / they're op / en. From the / top of his he / ad, he sees the / music coming / at him eleven / notes at a time. / He must squee / ze them all thro / ugh this narrow / tongue flick of a / horn, this squeal / er, whiner, sopra / no, diva of a high / pitched saxophone. / Flurries of fingere / d-key-fingers indis / tinguishable from eac / h other, strike the honey / from the stone. O, blurry pain / and slurry sorrow suck the merci / ful marrow from this brass-gold bone.