Alphabet City

Latest Entries »

Paris (part 2)

Filed under: Poetry — 2 Comments

March 22, 2013


And the women?  Ah, the women
drive you crazy with their lazy
way of talking at you, pouting.
Whisper voulez-vous.

I never should have come to Paris.
I don't seem to be the kind.  Two 
walk the rainy streets along Versailles.

The Ile of France,
where emperors dance,
and the old dome, Notre Dame,
leave me breathless tonight.  I 

never know which side of the Seine I'm on.
I'll just ask a bookanista,
they all know me,
call me "Mon ami, l'americain."


- to be continued -
Carlos Chagall, 2013

Tags: bookanista, France, Ile de France, Notre Dame, Paris, poetry, Seine, Versailles

Comment

Quote D’Orsay

Quote

Filed under: Quote — Leave a comment

Chagall, look! It’s you!

Sebastien Greco pointing to Marc Chagall lithograph on exhibition,
2003, Musee D'Orsay, Paris, France

Comment

Through the air with the greatest of ease

Filed under: Poetry — 2 Comments


They say failed aerialists know
that the last fall is the hardest.
But such a sweet kiss 
when you hit the ground.

My soul turns somersaults now.
I hesitate to let go, I don't dare.
I just watch you as you sail on by, 
reaching for the air.

Updraft tumbles me 
wildly.  I 
flutter by, bye baby.

They say fallen trapezists know
that to miss time is to lose heart.
It's such a sad kiss 
when you say goodbye. 

Chicheme, March 2013

Tags: Aerialist, love lost, trapeze

Comment

Paris (part 1)

Filed under: Poetry — Leave a comment


I'm at a hotel in Paris, on a balcony
overlooking Rue Chambiges,
in the 8th arrondissement.

Did you hear?
I bummed three cigarettes 
from le garcon at the Bistro.
Thought I'd given that all up 
so many years ago.

But as Parisians do, I guess
so go I. 

Gonna savor the flavor
on the balcony 
in Paris tonight,
ce soir, in Paris.

I cannot see the Eiffel Tower from where I am,
but they tell me that it flickers,
on the hour,
just like 
lovers gone wild.

Too many gypsies on the street
play guitar with all their fingers,
so they cannot be real gypsies,
or can they?

Not like Django,
French tango,
tell me,
where'd the old gang go?

- to be continued -
Chicheme, March 2013

arrondissement, Django Reinhardt, 8th arrondissement

Tags: arrondissement, Django Reinhardt, Eiffel Tower, France, gypsies, Paris, Rue Chambiges, tango

Comment

Haiku Redux

Aside

Filed under: Haiku, Poetry — Leave a comment

March 21, 2013


Haiku Redux is
not a bad name for a band.
Don't you think?  I do.

They'd play all their tunes
in seventeen four time, or
eighteen, but who's counting?

Chicheme, March 2013

Tags: haiku, poetry

Comment

Sandy Jazz

Filed under: Poetry — 3 Comments


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

Tags: bikini, Jazz, Music, Sand art and play

Comment

Cosa Nuestra

Filed under: Poetry — 3 Comments

March 20, 2013

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

Links 
Telstar