No talking at night,
No breakfast together,
No sparks in your eyes.
Busy most of the time,
out from this empty house.
No kisses in the morning,
nor late at night when you come back.
No flowers on Valentine's day,
no more boleros to dance.
My dear husband, I'm so sorry
to misunderstand the way you are.
Dear husband I made a mistake,
I drank the wrong cocktail on a depressing day,
thinking you were cheating me
in a Hotel with no name.
Meanwhile, I was drowning in
a glass of champagne,
dancing a new bolero with a stranger.
It was for you that I did it,
it was my bad interpretation,
my mistake no to ask.
Now, that is too late,
I understood that you didn't care
about those small things,
which really were important for me at that time,
when you were working for me to have the best,
while I was dancing a bolero with somedoy else.
Why are you found between the silences after culminations of art?
The pianissimos of ballad chords
I whisper a song beneath the hollows of my lips with eyes closed as if to pray.
And as if to say:
You are everywhere.
As I ghost bolero alone with mannequins made of air.
Planet Earth blue notes
Death from sea to plastic sea
Recycle our lives
Poison penitents we drink
Mother Nature owns last call
Alligator beach
hearing Ravel's bolero
relaxed the sun sighs
Bolero builds in intensity,
the interplay of instruments
crescendoing; soft to loud.
Ravel’s music haunting my dreams
Chimera of swells crashing, Everest
ever-reaching for God’s palm.
The texture of a piece of art —
layer upon layer of a singular sunset.
A flute of tangerine, clarinet - cluster of grapes,
strawberry-bassoon, then the e-flat clarinet.
Add the solo oboe d’amore — life and love
from Eden ‘til now, the delightful garden
vaingloriously springs up trumpets of red.
Ravel’s music haunting my dreams.
Chimera of swells crashing, Everest
ever-reaching for God’s palm.
Shall I name them all one by one?
The crescendoing, the crashing,
each lovely creature has a name
and the symphony soars; we see them
climb up the stairs, into the stars.
One thinks Ravel’s still playing,
adding in the orchestra pit clouds,
for we must know there is
an ever burgeoning stand of instruments.
Ravel’s music haunting my dreams
Chimera of swells crashing, Everest
ever-reaching for God’s palm.
1/20/2020
Alligator beach
enchanted sun softens with
Ravel bolero
Ta-ta-ta tum! ta-ta-ta- tum tum/
Ta-ta-ta tum! ta-t-la ta-ta-la ta-ta-la/
Ta-ta-ta tum! ta-ta-ta tum tum/
Ta-ta-ta tum! ta-ta-la ta-ta-la ta-ta-la/
Like / you are wearing fruited oil cloth/
Peaches apples pears and nuts /
And your unders loving rub /
They meet and dance exotically/
In electric rhy-thm
Ta-ta-ta tum! ta-ta-ta tum/
Ta-ta-ta tum! ta-ta-la ta-ta-la ta-ta-la/
Like / your feet become enchanted /
They move to pulse a dum ta-ta dum
A charismativ pulse dum ta dum
Intoxicating puilse ta-ta dum
Insistent driving pulse ta-ta dum/
Ta-ta dum! ta-ta dum in the fee-fee-fever of the dance
Ta-ta-ta tum! ta-ta-ta tum
Ta-ta-ta tum! ta-ta-la ta-ta-la-ta-ta-la
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