Can one touch sound?
There, I caught the pulsating tone and
the quivering skin moves palpitating to the rhythm.
Can one smell sound?
The swirl of scents floods the brain
a hunger to live opens.
Can one see sound?
There, I visualize the waves of the sea, the
Shapes it makes as it crashes against the rocks.
Then the undulations and vibrations of the sky
as the creatures that inhabit it pass by giving it form.
Can one ever feel vibrations
There I perceive them?
The cadence, tones, meters, tempos, beats, patterns that surrounds us
That keep opening senses that are unlocked.
“Stammering is the native eloquence of us fog people.”
What does it mean to leave the past behind?
While arriving at a catastrophical beauty
or simply a wondering death.
is to appease the vagabond by cruelly
perpetrating incessant torture
and using the continuous past
as a wandering tool
in order to arrive at an unforeseeable future.
The hollow sounds of the violin entered the lust of love,
as such the dreams of yesteryear began.
Now the ongoing present hunts and haunts
what we were.
Symbols of desire, of need,
forever searching what was.
Not knowing that to be satisfied by that
is to agree to a life of monotonous shadows
that are bound to destroy.
Unable to pause among the ruins
a noise awakens us,
be it a beat, a song, the lyrics one sings out of tune,
the barking of a dog
we need to understand
nothing is real when we would have
been better as birds or bears or
those disappearing bees.
Waking up is terrifying
as are those disappearing dreams, the
ones where reality stutters.
Memory happens in unison,
like a mist of illusions
one is here, there, everywhere or nowhere.
Leticia Cortez is a teacher, writer, and activist. She was born in Mexico and grew up in Chicago. She travels the art world, both in her imagination and in her music, book, art and film reviews. She writes political essays, short stories and poetry. Presently she teaches Latin American Literature and English at St. Augustine College.