L C Vieira
You climb my tower of words,
on your knees,
as careful as Salvador
built his hanging tower -
spoon by spoon.
From Barcelona to Figueres,
you smooth whatever careless wrinkle
slowed us on our path to pleasure.
You pace yourself -
each thrill along the way,
while we are in another museum,
I, hunting for visions and surprises.
Dali gave his magic messages,
but you prefer my brazen breast,
somewhere to rest your thoughts
and let them disappear.
I search for words for all the parts,
and weave them with the help of Eros,
above the clouds, high winds and blue.
Salvador's drawers open,
calling me to find you waiting
with all the wonder of the world.
Oh, I laugh to think how quickly
I would trade delicious thoughts
For the raw reality awaiting,
somewhere else, new tonight.
(2004, Revised 2012)
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Comments about this poem (Magic Words by L C Vieira )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(22 March 1941 -)
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