Jazz

[Brownlie]

Mid-afternoon as quiet as can be
inside a bustling city, cars telling you
what you forgot
on a high note. Your cheekbones
are my wishing bone, tied
with great care
yet barely, to the reverse end
of my drunken hands. Such giddy
pleasure having you
at mere arm’s length; this crazy
saxophonist bent
double, smuggling last breaths
over the pulsing border.
Light ceases, in between
the gust of wind
has died
beside the blackness of your eye,
the silence now
grows viscose
with defeat.

I think you run into some problems with sentence fragments that hinder the flow of information. This seems to make the poem feel very terse and disorganized. I would suggest going over the poem and making sure your independent articles are grammatically sound. There is quite a bit of parenthetical information as well. That being said, I don't know much about Jazz poetry but know there's quite a bit of it around. Hope this helps.