Cartography of a Symphony
I am the jukebox in Edward Hopper’s diner.
I am the violin in Chagall’s map of song.
I am the music in a turtle waiting to dance.
I am the bowl of cherries lined up in Vegas.
I am the language written in calligraphy upon the sky.
I am the river and the lighthouse and the boat.
I am the newsprint in an obituary.
I am ubiquitous like rain.
How to Stay Alive
Hold a musical note until it covers your soul.
Your memory will become blurred.
Loneliness is a verb.
Jump into a painting now and then.
Merge with an alphabet in the pages of a book.
When the world becomes too much remember,
The tin can line of all who have felt like that is infinite and eternal.
Like breath itself, reverberating on an ocean, taking in the breeze.
Deep Fatigue
500 years without sleep.
The world is tangled in nocturnal limbo
while maps know our name by heart.
Insomnia brings a cup of tea and a diner.
Music plays on the ceiling and
Michelangelo reads the tarot cards aloud.
The record player plays everything
by Stephen Sondheim, Leonard Cohen and a
mystery song that twirls through the sky.
At the edge of a cusp, the world holds its breath.
The Earth is always wondering who let the air out
of the balloon and will they come back for their circus.
