One Story Leads to Another . . .

A Black Dance In The Quarter

sunset, river, new orleans

The river in New Orleans

shimmers like a thin black

woman dancing on a dime.


The temperature might have

been lower than zero, but the

intense music warmed the night.


They say that the night began to

blaze as the woman began to sing

a sultry song, and all hell broke loose.


Nothing is more addictive than the pain

felt when a woman sings a love song

you cannot stop her hunger from singing.


The thirst for water when dreams are

found in the warm liquor that drives

the blood and fuses it with the radical.


Before the drunkard who asks in turgid

sentences that you journey with him, and

the journey must be taken when a question


is posed and a black woman begins singing

a melody that only a vagrant heart understands

in spite of, everything, the journey must begin.

Scroll to Top