Sunday, November 08, 2009

Plaça de Catalunya

Nocturnal poetry in Barcelona,
dreaming an impossible
lucidity on stone steps
bathed in the neon Gods and
their phosphorous footsoldiers,
lined up to illuminate the word;
so the word can be heard
Above the gentle hum of
steel steeds and the intermittent
rumble of the winds.
Perspectives are changed as
things are put under new sight,
not too bright but dripping
with insight. A gilded night.
A city eternally bathed in Light.

Saturday, November 07, 2009

Bass Masters

"Dude they'd be soooo easy to catch from here!"

Surrounded by life, above
and below - dozens of
fish swim freely in the
pier; here life teems
where in other cities
it flounders. They
swim peacefully
amongst themselves,
and all the American
can think is how easy
it would be to kill them.

La Rambla

La Rambla the jugular,
La Rambla the heart,
La Rambla you breath
and tear me apart;

Then put me together,
you're dumb and you're clever;
You hold sway over everything,
except maybe the weather.

You scream Catalunya,
then sell Madrid caps;
You hold the weight of us all,
under strain of collapse;

La Rambla La Rambla,
whatever you do;
Please keep on holding,
and carry us through.