After Swing, by Kwame Alexander and Mary Rand Hess.
The nation's pulse can be found in Charles Mingus's fingers walking on an upright bass. There's so much I want to say to you, so much I can't find words for. Have you ever heard Coltrane run up and down a scale, then deconstruct every rule you thought you knew? You're right in front of me, but I can't reach you– my hands trapped in my pockets, my throat dry as August sun.