Alphabet City

It’s been said
love’s accents are all that remain,
the patois of paradise.

The bloodrush, quick pulse,
nuance, inflection,
when spirits soar.

But now there are no words.

Every way back
to you is blocked.

Halls that lead to nowhere:
the shady corners
of your maze.

I shout your name
from under the canopy,
ancient fronds.

Cool pools lap,
the sole reply
in chill morning.

Haze about my ankles
swirls and spirals me up,
through the thicket.

Aloft,
I search about the mist,
but find I’m no less lost,
despite this vantage.

I sense
I am
imperishable.

I return to my native seat
when the music stops,
sure to find you there,
but mistaken.

I am alone
on the edge that lies ahead,
eternal as the road behind.

So strange to live forever?

Stranger still
that we were at all.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

The melody haunts
on the offbeat,
my heart's pulse.  

Sad, but hopeful,
maybe.

The fuzzy reeds,
breath through tenors, 
piano and bass 
both upright shake
sand castles loose 
at the turrets.

Doubtful brushes swirl on snares,
precise in ambiguous beat,
more color,
than anything electric.

A young girl,
neon green bikini, 
samba prone on her lounger 
under ear 
buds, to her own muse, 
or maybe disposable pop.

Surf rolls.
Hear that oh
so soft brush on cymbal?

Grab it, now hold it, 
now fade.

Chicheme, March 2013

Hello.

I am not writing about you.
I am not writing about anyone, let alone anyone you might know.

I am vamping, riffing, making it up on the fly.
A matador working the cape, entangling the horns as they come.

I am a romantic, a raconteur, a fabulist.
I parry in rhythm and rhymes, in sound, guttural, enunciated.

I do not know you, dear follower. You do not know me.
I do not know me. If anything, I write about the people I know in flesh and blood.

I am inspired by those who have been at my side for my lifetime.
They are here with me now, living the day-to-day, the grind, with love and commitment.

We sweat, laugh, sometimes hysterically until we cry, aching good, chest to chest, cheek to cheek.
Your comments suggest you think I am alone on this planet; au contraire, my life is bohemian…