Sunday, July 29, 2012

Journal 50 - Cuban Musical Souls

The foghorn hollers in the distance like the mother
of a 13-year old chasing cats around the neighborhood.
(no need to ask for what) But I am sitting on a
buoy out to sea, drifting out in the dark blue of
the night-time sea. I'm not gasping for air flapping
my hands like a dog in the water for the first time,
swallowing the salty water and coughing up tiny invisible
ocean water creatures like plaque and tartar. No, I'm just out
on the distant blue buoy leaning my head back staring
at he moon and the stars and even the milky way
in this light pollutionless wet world. The stars are so
numerous yet innumerable they are both distinct and
blurred together like a light charcoal drawing.  A clear
chiaroscuro wipes itself across the tired moth-eaten
blanket of the dark night-time blue sky (apologies to
T.E. Hulme - whom you should read! NOW!) I'm not even
thirsty or sea-sick out here bobbing like a child's
fishing bob on a neighbor's brown pond, though I'm hoping
not to attract the attention of the local flesh-eating
shark community. I sneeze snot vapors out into the
moon-lit starry night and I swear there is a glistening
beauty in it. Three dolphins or porpoises reveal their
crooked backs in the calm black water reminding me I'm
not alone but still cared for. If Flipper is here who needs
to fear the shark schools? I feel I need a straw of hay
in my mouth to twist around between my swollen
fingers and chew on as the night and the blue progress.
Or maybe a Cuban cigar. I could be in Cuba for all I
know. Just lead me to the bars where Compay Segundo and
Eliades Ochoa play this imperishable home-grown music
to a colorful garden of dancing flowers in the fertile
yard. Mil gracias a la familia grande. A thousand thanks
to you and to you too you Cuban musical souls who
raise your intoxicating notes to the beautiful rhythms
in the ancient nighttime sky. The sky is older than
man. There's something about floating and bobbing in
the blue night on the black water after a red sunset, hearing
the sounds of the Cuban soul in the wind on the waves in the
water - alone and surrounded by the suffering happy creation.


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