Four Pieces for Egberto Gismonti

Um Anjo

I can hear a guitar
make its way down
toward the ear of corn
I can hear the string
tug at the tethered hand
I can guess as to the location
of the world
at this very moment
I can almost imagine
its rotation tilted
on assumption
A year and more
has gone by has been
or is it all to no avail
You hold out your hand
wait for the shake
but it just hangs there
I feel the air
press against my palm
and squeeze tight
holding on
for dear life.



Orixás


After the initial hit
strum chord impact
it continues up and down
the neck of repetition
and the guitar is an envelope
look inside and see
what is playing there for you.
Take a ride on this train
that stumbles across
the landscape
never missing a beat
always blowing in effort
to reach a quiet destination.
The guitar is an envelope
full of dreams and notes
that fly as the wind picks up
and blows into the dark
of your eyes
into the oracle of your ears
into the mouth of change
into the drone of day.



Carta de Amor


In the face of danger
there is an opportunity
grown apart
so the desert provides it
space and throttle
slides over the sand and stones
it’s a study in patience
and the road evaporates
into your eyes
so hot it’s hard to breathe
now this time of year
so unusual for now
this time of year
that comes at an unusual time
of year more than any other
wraps itself around your face
tight as a veil
and suffocates.



Forrobodó


Egberto listens to the metronome
in the other room
as he pounds the keys and shouts
it’s a distraction a way
to chase away those who are not
in the least there
in fast succession
for the last supper
has already left
awful tippers
down to the last one of them
A bad impression
some call it
I can’t forget their faces
it’s a trick
I know it or
should know it
but then there are only points
of reference and our cover
is blown inside of a second
just the same
you want to
take a chance
rake the
leaves a bad taste in your mouth.