These Overflowing Streets

It's in the poetry

Make it the place it was then�"

O vast, O teeming, O brimming with life, so full it spilled over!

The air thick with the pulse of the city�"its veins flowing,

Winter’s hand, damp and heavy, wrapped in lateness�"

And abundance, oh abundance, tipping forward, overflowing!

Birds of paradise�"bright feathers aflame!

In profusion, their hues ripening, glistening,

Like molten metal, alive in the gutters,

The city’s alchemy, nature and man entwined.

Umbrellas broken, their ribs exposed,

Smashed, cast down like battered pigeons�"

Oh, how they flutter, black wings spread,

Camellias, pink as blushing cheeks, their petals

Drenched and sinking, falling into water,

Their sweetness rotting in the heat of the streets!

Yet the eye! O the eye!�"it drinks it all in,

Unyielding, unstopping, feasting on the flood,

The urban swell�"everything surging,

Footprints carved in January’s cold,

While waters rise, filling the marks we leave,

The city’s song swelling with every breath.

Indoors, the lovers! They rush, they surge!

Hands reaching, skin against skin,

Drawing and redrawing the borders of being�"

For is it not a tune, a wild refrain?

To live alone? To sing alone?

Months of solitude, months of waiting�"

And then! Sudden summer bursts forth!

Sheer heat, the streets trembling,

Bodies in sway, a rhythm, a dance, a pulse!

O the sun! Sheer joy and gloss of lips,

Cigarettes lit in the golden glow,

The city, wide and sprawling, drunk on love,

Drunk on longing, loss, and the heat of a thousand bodies.

And there he was! A pink Viking, proud and sly�"

Beer in hand, by the pool, his eyes catching yours�"

O fleeting moment! A flame, a spark, a brand!

And the summer stretched its arms, bled its days,

You gave your fire, and he gave his,

A song shared, though bruised and scarred,

The city echoed with your laughter, your sighs.

How many risks! O how many tests!

How long to wait, how deep to plunge,

Till at last the spirit rests, the final note sung�"

You learned the tune, the rhythm of life,

O yes, the final call, the last refrain.

Start with genius, start with the spark�"

Small, yet bright, it lights the way,

The spirit of a place, pulsing, near,

His skin, a flash of flesh between jeans and shirt�"

A touch, a whisper, a silent desire�"

Does he feel it too? Do you both sweat with the heat of it?

O yes, the spirit shared, not yet a song�"

But enough to build upon,

For even without bread or fruit,

The city, the streets, are full�"not empty!

Signs of life, of God, of man!

Each one a note in the great symphony,

A pulse, a whisper, a shout to the heavens!

And how to live it? To live this life and not be crushed by it?

Where to touch, when to sing�"O the genius speaks!

Soft and still, a voice in the whirlwind,

Calling your name, singing it clear,

A place to dwell, a place to belong�"

O the city, the body, the soul, full and alive!

:: 09.27.2024 ::