Trio los condes biography of william shakespeare

Victor Hernández Cruz

Lyre and voice
the ancient serenade
Strings right below myth.
A circle of naked flesh
from the pores comes
the a capella of the Greek
chorus, the Taino Areyto flute
in the dance.
The Polynesian hands of
word waves.
Fingers tracing songs
in the wind.
The harmony creates columns
Each one a color a position
Celestial,
Bodies and objects that have
become sound.
I see plates and saucers
enclosed behind glass,
Small shot glass,
a magnificent oval bottle
of brandy,
Men walking through bluish
plastic curtains
Wearing thin ties and silky
suits.
All blue motion, red dance
the chains of Andalusia
broken loose,
What caramel would sing
if given a mouth.
In Cuba the rumba slowed down,
oil of the drummers’ hands,
following the lament of the voice,
a mass tribute to the female form
The moon coming down as nickels
for the nickelodeon
Push H-7
Los Condes sing, “Amor de mis amores”
and bring back a skinny Agustín Lara
sitting in the margins of Rubén Darío’s