Lavinia
written by: Joshua Corwin
@JoshuaCorwin1
I feel pain in my chest
as the bongos play my
heart out the door, I sit
empty in jazz standards
of air. Where is my sweet,
serenity? Where is my
ocean, air?
I want to bless the ocean,
silence raptures my heart,
photograph of my poem
for you, Lavinia, splits into
memories of Hotchkiss
Park; and that kiss
we shared on summer’s
eve of hollowed stone grass.
Peering into the palm trees,
with open hands of God.
Psychedelic overture.
I took my mask off for you.
I wanted to see nothing but
you, who you really are. I
wanted to be with you, your
true self – soul, christened
goddess compassion. –
Eager. I yearned to ride
the freeway with you. To
San Diego, San Bernardino,
climb mountains of forever
… but I was pulled over by
a jazz-singer cop and you
took five, with Brubeck, and
addressed your own
addictions, despite late night
samba at 10 minutes to mid-
night. I look
for nightingales, but
it’s five to 10 in the morning.
Thursday nightmares…
I dream of freedom.
I want to take the highway.
But maybe it’s not you
who will ride my poem.
But someone else
along the highway of life,
strolling down the park,
kissed by poems unmasked
as I circle my blues-and-sky
stripe towel, and whisper
cymbals, search for bongos,
rides and crashes, snares,
and black notes to echo
effervescent infinity
when
I return
home
to whisper waves
and mimic sky.
- Excerpt I.XV. - May 28, 2021
- Excerpt I.XI. - April 24, 2021
- Spotlight On Writers – Joshua Corwin - April 3, 2021
