" Night Jazz"
The night storm has made a myth of electricity,
I am burnt by the call of stars, need a balcony, and stumbling with owl eyes
find wine, find batteries and an old radio.
Such strange companions these, this still dripping midnight, American station
playing cat-feet jazz, scales running lithe up and down, a quiet Rioja.
The wet night breathes life, the moon is gone somewhere, seducing a solar wind
in some unknown galaxy, maybe just hiding.
The basalt breast of Tindaya rises to the east, a ship prow forging through the dreams
of silent sleepers who make uneasy shapes under cotton and gasp for breeze.
I am lazy in the weight of heat, ice cubes die in my glass as jazz rearranges the sky,
surreal soundtrack.
I conjour Sagittarian horses from starlight, ride them all
to Atlantis and back, taste the sweat from my brow on the back of my hand.
Such unexpected darkness, no blink of lights from far islands, no wisps of salsa
mingled with the music of this week drift to my ears.
Tonight is a night to smile under a cavern of sky and her firework planets,
listening to the music I cannot put into the proper category, savouring the crushed,
sweet magic of wine, wondering so many whys.
It is much like love, the jolting honey of finding beauty before your next footstep,
not sure of which road to take, allowing yourself to surrender to her skies.
I become this night, with all its silent absences and spectacle.
Wine, stars and magic are mine, wine, stars, magic and jazz.
© 2002 Caballo Oscuro
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