April | 2013 | Alphabet City

Archive for April, 2013

Goodnight, Chloé

Filed under: Poetry — 2 Comments

April 25, 2013

I reminded her that the night before,
she’d told me she was setting her clock
for 7:23. I responded
by setting mine for 7:24.
She was the early bird and I the worm.
And that caused to remind us: when she reached
over and across me, for the light switch,
I kissed her gently, in stealth mode mind you,
on her cheek, at that precise moment when
the room changed from warm orange light to black,
silhouettes illuminated, moonlight
coming through the window. We nestled in,
she, compact and petite, flat on her back,
and I, stretched on my stomach, my left arm
extended overhead like a swimmer,
reaching for the wall in the final lap.

I think this poem works well when paired with For A Sleeping Chloé

Tags: early bird, Light switch, Stealth mode

Comment

Synesthesia

Filed under: Poetry — 2 Comments

At the piano, I play a light blue,
my left hand punctuates, strident bulbous,
circles of gray, droplets of black timing.
My right hand ripples arpeggios, brisk

splashes of gold, Pollockesque, allegro.
Musically, on pilot-automatic.
Out the window, there in the sky, I see
major triads as clouds move slowly, pushed;

invisible winds above dissonance,
beyond the minor second. Zephyrs play
in the treetops, to and fro, suspended,
diminished, dominant, gin and tonic.

Then you arrive, a refrain at the door,
so I add the seventh, ninth, eleventh.
Your smile lifts me up in harmonics,
too many octaves high, in overtones

that crash the normal frequencies, like bells
in heavens, all is hallowed, on this night.
On ground, a breeze stirs the honeysuckle
love, pianofortissimomente.

Tags: Color, Duke Ellington, Eddie Van Halen, Jimi Hendrix, Music, Perception, Stevie Wonder, Synesthesia

Comment

Come of Age

Filed under: Haiku — Leave a comment

Boppers, then beatniks,
hippies, before we were freaks.
Now we’re just wizards.

Tags: Beatnik, boppers, freaks, hippies, wizards, zooters

Comment

Goodbye Richie

Filed under: Poetry — 3 Comments

April 23, 2013

I remember when Zimmerman passed you
on the way up to apartment 4D.
“Man, a hard rain’s a-gonna fall,” he said,
“I ain’t heard nobody sing it like you.”

We felt back then like we were almost gone,
like motherless children, long ways from home.
I’m crying now, Rich, I miss you so much.
Freedom’s another word for all to lose.

Pizza on the street, outside the Fillmore,
blowing smoke at the Why Not?, the Fat Cat,
retuning my axe, every time you played,
in open E, open D, what the fuh! 🙂

’cause you had those funky fingers, my friend.

We sent boys away, like Handsome Johnny,
and back in the day at Max Yasgur’s place,
you brought it home Richie, minstrel from Gault.
You kicked it off, that long ago new age.

Songbirds in Bedford-Stuy mourn your passing.
With you gone, there’s one less Gospel Singer,
one less voice to recite what it was like,
back then, back there, a long, cold way from home.

Tags: Bedford–Stuyvesant Brooklyn, Fillmore East, Freedom, Gault, Max Yasgur, Richie Havens, Woodstock

Comment

Cover/Mraz – Make It Mine

Filed under: Music Set To Poetry — 2 Comments

April 21, 2013

One of those weekends we hate to see end. Here’s our parting shot to you all, a cover of Jason Mraz’s Make It Mine. Sebastien, vocals and rhythm. Carlos on backing guitar. We hope you like. We had a good time covering other people’s stuff this weekend. Have a great week everybody, whatever it is you do for a living. We are packing up and making the drive back to the city.

Comment

There, overlooking the waves! – Haiku for Wendy

Filed under: Haiku — Leave a comment

We are all gathered.
. . . with you. And with your spirit.
Kneading daily bread.

Tags: daily bread, haiku, Lord's Prayer, poetry, you can fly

Comment

Week 4

Filed under: Poetry — 1 Comment

Barnabas and Paul have been on the road,
Iconium, Perga to Antioch,
where they ran into strong opposition,
from the Jewish elders and the Elite.

I make joyful noises throughout the day,
the Gentiles appear to understand us.
I dab my own tears with wool from the lamb,
my soul bleached white from the blood of the blessed.

John’s time’s spent at the Tiberias Sea,
after I told him about my dream there:
the surf rolling in, my mind drifting out,
to future days, to ages not yet come.

He has visions there, stronger than before.
Thousands of people, all races and tongues,
beyond the tribulation, the end days,
before the throne, humbled and united.

I miss my friend; it’s difficult for me.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
There’s deeper meaning now to everything.
How lonely it must be to not believe.

Tags: Antioch, Barnaba, Gentile, Jew, Konya, Paul, Perga, Tiberias

Comment

Cosa Nuestra – reissued – music set to poetry

Filed under: Music Set To Poetry — Leave a comment

This was the very first post to Alphabet City in March.  We reissue it here as music set to poetry.  Sebastien and Chloe on vocals, along with the usual suspects playing behind them.  We are having fun here this wonderful April evening outside of NYC, 2013, planet Earth; hope you are doing the same.



I'm a wire thin warrior on rooftops in starlight.
Red-shifted from eons up alleys, down fire escapes.
Black and white flickers from Telstar,
from before the flood, but after the mad dash.

Back in the day, on Eleventh and A, 
who knew we were in Alphabet City?

Or that Twelfth and D would be the place to be?

On Tenth and First we'd quench our thirst
with piragüa in July, coquito in June,
from the little man with the blue pushcart 
and the green balloon.

So much love, so much heart, so sweet, 
so right, see you 
on the corner tonight.

Oyeme mulata!
Che che colé, 
que bueno e'?

Chicheme, March 2013
© Carlos Chagall, April 2013
Links 
Telstar

Tags: Alphabet City Manhattan, che che cole, coquito, hector lavoe, lower east side, New York City, piragua, poetry, Telstar, willie colon

Comment

Cover – Mayer’s Clarity

Filed under: Music Set To Poetry — Leave a comment

April 20, 2013

Band is spending some time with Chloe and her mom outside NYC, up in Danbury CT. Here’s our contribution to the morning, a cover of John Mayer’s Clarity. Hope you like it. Sebastien Greco on vocals and rhythm. Me on guitar. Papo playing bongo on the back of a guitar! Dede playing this funky looking guitar/bass thigamajig. Hope you like it. As always, Sebastien Eric wanted to do another take, and probably another one after that, but we said, you know what dude, good enough for now. Hope you enjoy.

Tags: Albert King, Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday Is Just as Bad), Gibson Flying V, Guitar, John Mayer, New York City, Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame, Stevie Ray Vaughan

Comment

Without Looking Within

Filed under: Poetry — Leave a comment

At the tip of my nose,
I draw a big red dot.
I alternate my eyes,
observe my nose in sweeps,
left, right, like a rock face,
thousands of micrometers above the carpet.

Daemons traverse,
from nostril to nostril,
release the grasp on my proboscis finally,
rappel down silken ropes,
coiled fine Austrian pulleys, zzzizzz down ziplines,

hit the baseboard, smack-tumbling then running,
scoot to far-away corners in the apartment,
some trapped there in the slats of the venetian blinds.

With eyes wide open, I jut my upper lip,
look straight down, stick out my tongue, binoculate,
and my nose disappears; my dominant eye
kicks in; I peruse only parts of my face
that I am able to see, (a barren scape
from this vantage point). I am unable to
look myself in the eye. I gaze upward,

blue reflections, holograms from the edge,
there against the dome, the soft placenta,
that holds back the expanse. My eyes adjust
the new focal length, rays a cute obtuse,
strain my peripheral vision beyond
its limits, to wholly wrap around; curved
like space. I see me standing there ahead,

looking out, searching,

so tired; I close my eyes
to rest, the ghost

images of infinity, still there,
inverted on my optic nerve.