A new text with old gas is better than an old text with new gas. Poetry starts from music. The music isn't what makes poetry sing. Words sing when they swing. The melodies are in the subtext.
Consonants slap out the rhythm.
Words snap into place, not because they sound good together, but because they mean what they mean in the swing of things textual. Like nature, swing perpetuates whether anyone pays attention or not. Unlike nature, it's a product of community. You can't swing alone. What the poets and jazz musicians can capture and hold, briefly or recorded for posterity, are the artifacts of seeing, hearing and feeling the swing.