Black Rock Sonata Casa Neruda (Piedras Negras, Chile)

At your door, I'm a vagabundo
seeking deliverance,
thoughts of a tour depress me.
I won't go inside;
I imagine how quiet it must have been
at your passing.
Your departure's hush
still inhabits la casa.
Thirty strangers in pursuit of soul
invade your favorite chair,
leave breathy kisses on a mirror.

I walk around the house, 
down to las piedras,
gray glistening black.
Between boulders, protected, thought
pulses in light rain's fine mist.
Tentatively, I scribble flash phrases,
notes on sea foam.

The bleak setting me tambalea
as walls of water surge,
cascade, torment the rocks,
Gulls' cries sound into song.
A constant roaring, sangre corriendo,
insides hammering, fresh constellations
anchor in my gut.

Insistent surf rolls at water's edge
The gray horizon holds a boat
black, low slung,
your past glimpses carga.

Rooftops cling to mist
inside the surreal roar,
la vista sin fin, your muse,
the beauty here,
your lady's streaming elegancia,
beloved books,
a boundless heart.

The lull between swells
espera una voz.

Me tambalea – stuns me
Sangre corriendo – blood coursing
La vista sin fin – endless view
espera una voz. - waits for a voice