Scorereading.

15 golden saxophones dip reed to reed On the apron, bell to bell, coupled in Whole crotchets toward their gleaming end, Fret their pearl-veneered buttons and Clamp mute their brazed tubes at the 300 Or so drunk plumbers convening & singing along, Wrenchless, spouseless, razzing the jazz And heating their collapsible chairs. "You know-" crescent thumbs prizing out the cork "-if you cut a T into the main-" Deep air blows over the bottle-lips "-and plug A tuba cup up her," -someone drums and bowledge With a plate -"and setting up a boy in the 3rd story Bath working the taps-" a flam struck By a cruet flange "-I hear you can play the house." On the beat the spitvalves lift, uncocked, And merry steam pipes up through all the vents.