Let's start with Sergio's poem inspired by Etta Jones.
Walking in the Limbo of Words
the lighthouse of the indefinite
trafficking voices of absence,
skeleton walls smuggle freedom.
My country: a poem under an illegal shade.
A sun full of cameras rides
my skin like ghosts
who claim what is rightfully theirs.
I lead the echoes of my flight
to a heart masked
as theatrical delirium,
my wrinkled memoir
slow dancing to Etta Jones’s,
I found a dream, that I could speak to.
A dream that I can call my own.
At last I touch your lips
with my revolutionary blood
and leave my confession
on your cinnamon eyes.
With No Punctuation
You insist on dealing with my silence
by making sure no one rises to my defense
Between the lips of your vulva
on doors that listen
to what belongs to me
nothing of the low note
by my voice
To be able to sing
with no punctuation
Reparations to Eros
May silence never ride
on the dormant back of a heron.
May it leave a homeopathic drop of luck
on the waters of my trembling body.
May my skin bear no resemblance
to the unshakable epidermis
of a frozen pachyderm.
I must confess, I am in debt
to a slave driver's arms.
Tasted his fruit,
but could not distinguish
sour from sweet.
You fall beyond your sap / abated remembrance / vile fear of tears // In you my heart / a circle of fire / black salt on the river banks of your Himalaya // And I am shipwrecked / confused tangle of dreams that mocks the cacophonous memory of water.
A Thousand Darknesses
In memory of the Holocaust Victims and Celan
We went to Mirabeau Bridge
and paid your promise.
The hours passed
on the Seine, our lives
thinking a suicide chose
the side of the Tower
where nothing ends up falling.
We threw our coins in the water.
No Country for the Elderly
In one another's arms, birds in the trees,
—Those dying generations—at their song
Sailing to Byzantium
By William Butler Yeasts
I set the rain on fire, lacerated the sun
with my straight razor
so I could part company with time.
I'm saving my abysses
to scamper away from the cold
so as not to be disgusted with death.
This country is no place for the elderly,
the ridiculous collections of antiquated scores,
birds bebopping jazz melodies on the autumnal tree
of sensory music that ignores everything.
Teenagers standing on God's sacred fire
turn to me and say…
Stick to being the teacher
of your wrinkled breath.
Of course, I must start with some Etta Jones. Here is her "Don't Go to Strangers":
Her "I'll Be Seeing You" also features her long-time love, the tenor saxophonist Houston Person: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcok47x_sMk
Let's play some vibes. My husband made a request for some Jason Marsalis. Here is his "The Man With Two Left Feet": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Utk_OKKh2ic
Another song of his is "Offbeat Personality": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D79DbEU9jv0
Back to the papers!