Someone built a Jungle & called it a Heart. Lava & Honey take turns feeding hummingbirds. Baby dinosaurs clutch sippy cups - Out of breath…

So much singing & nothing to say Infinite thoughts & no ideas. Poetry having no enemies prowls earth unguarded. Blues on the other hand…

False Heavens Trash flowers Eden has much to offer Geese guess & ducks suppose Only the volcano knows. This Holy Land — the stuff of…

Out of the corner of our ears we hear her flamenco. Breaking cement & chopping at icy silence. Here on Earth there is no peace but we abound in silence. Oh Music- Girlish Woman Queenlike Child- strum at heaven in 3/4 time lull the sun to dream- bring us the moon & her choir of stars.

The secret is getting in a place sometimes a physical space sometimes a spiritual or mental location as real as any foodtruck or dancefloor like when a flamenco guitarist gets in a groove & stays there til the dancers are stamping for him to stop - That’s the only secret I know…

Louis Armstrong is a river Joni Mitchell is a vineyard Agustin Lara is a bouquet of troubled roses Juan Gabriel is a warm hug Edith Piaf is that 4th glass of wine at lunch Django Reinhart is an awesome cigarette Manitas De Plata is a black cat about to curse you Googoosh is a sigh Mahalia Jackson is…

It is important to be amateur. I don’t know the etymological root of that word It’s probably ‘Amor’ — to love And ‘Teur’ — something French & pointless which is good enough for me. Professionals are boring, uptight & dress bad. Professionals remind me of that West Elm store that has a…

Our neighbors 24 hours a day are the homeless They can be loud & scary They can also be full of grace In my uncaring moments I refer to them as Crackheads freaks weirdos zombies etc In my caring moments I keep my mouth shut & say a silent prayer for The Turk Tiny Dancer The Wig Lady One…

Musical illiteracy is no badge of honor But also no cause for shame. The other night a friend offered me mountains of sheet music I sheepishly told him I didn’t read He looked at me like I voted red Then he said …oh makes sense man You play like you don’t bother reading. What bird notates its own song? What bluejay studies the mockingbird’s riffs? Originally published at www.davidgarza.com.