Divan del Tamarit

August 26, 2012

Arabesques performance, June 2012

“Toda la tarde la agua se siente…”
Arabesques, Rocío Màrquez and Christian Boissel

& the dove & the piano chord
repeat this over over over and over

& the dove and the quiet of the afternoon
with our many passes at the moon
I wave my white scarf
I wave my white face
I let pass the moon of the morning
I let pass the moon of the sea
but it is when the night bends itself double
under a bank of stars that I will not let the moon go
I will not let the moon go I will not let the moon
down. I will not allow the moon to run away

& the dove and the old tree gather where the
piano is making moonlight out of a garden

All afternoon the water sat down
the doorway
the child
the child    the utter silence

A muezzin calls at the same moment
as the most intricate piano trill

much wind
a dead poet
wind

do not leave your face
vacant on the counter
or the moon will pick it up

take your dress down to your shoulders
here so the wind can touch you there

what a thing
what sleep he has
the dead poet
the wind
the teeth of the wind

and then a cry from out of the throat

I have much fear
I have the required bravado
I have other things as well

Oak branch that holds up
the tongue of the bell
made of the wood of the pomegranate

Granada in the moonlight
I can hear only the tongue of the bell
body of longing, the dove crosses the moon
on her way elsewhere, leaving us
with empty throats
leaving us with ourselves alone
with the dove and the piano chord
with the wind

Inspired by attending a recital of the poetry of Federico García Lorca sung (Màrquez), to piano (Boissel), during the International Sacred Music Festival, Fez, Morocco, June 2012

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blood peach, melon & honey
marmalade on flat bread of wheat
fried to a crisp golden brown
in patches.

the cat on her cardboard throne
the unbearably thin kittens who doze
in the middle of the cobbled streets
and the hands that drift down
with caresses

the negotiation with the merchant:
argan oil
orange flower water
essense of roses in oil

Shannon: it is just as you have taught me,
rose petals in baskets between the tattooed meat and the figs,
the place of rose petals in the bedroom
by the toilet, because of the garbage, with the garbage

dishes of cumin, gray salt, pale pepper
the roasting of the sun

Souk of the Antique Dealer

August 26, 2012

Note the cat on the stage over the pool of water

Mirror with a robe of copper and brass
horse with its own moon, moon with its own horse
quietly braiding the entrails of the lizard
into shining ropes.

Breadcrumbs (Fez)

August 26, 2012

Cat Condominium, Fez Medina

poop. of cats probably
dying cockroach
red door with a chalk drawing of a sun
water, and sewer plates in the cobbled alley. sewage.
the letters, “MAS” carved into plaster inward-leaning walls
paintings hung on both sides – Berber Art Gallery
Bella Casa, the shop on the main street that is our touchstone,
home of the naked woman, the proprietress points out to us
as she indicates an unclothed mannequin: “you see? In Morocco
we also have naked women.”
a harp made from the intestines of the camel
Do you sing? we are asked, or are you here only to listen?
ahead in the street (Talaa Seghira) fabric that flies in the breeze, indicating heaven
Fez Real Estate Agency, Banque Popular
Keystone arch
then an opening in a wall, the opening is crooked
Fabrique de poterie
e percussion
cats the narrowing alley
6 alleys beyond midnight
and next to the turnoff toward the tanneries
the boy who knew where we lived
when we were lost the first night. we gave him coins
the cyber café: Cyber Yassine (sign in a shape indicating a red telephone)
Bella Maria, the shop that was our false muse
we thought we were closer to home than we really were
pomegranate tree
“Hafid Snakhd” carved in an old stone wall
sound of water running beneath a grate at the gutter, an awful smell
then a fountain
simultaneous knowledge
a man stands in the fountain, shaving
from beneath the hem of his robe—two metal poles for legs
scarves scarves piles hundreds, inside
hundreds more and the incense and the garbage
the entrance to a mosque
Diving to the right, a queen cat on her throne pillow a wreath of kittens
the connecting alley to Talaa Kebira from Talaa Seghira
from there the water clock, flow of water, the sound indicating time for prayer
butcher stall: the meat alongside the medersa
eggs, the meat tattooed with green ink
down takes you to the hammam and the money change
up to the Café Clock, the gathering place for expatriates, artists, students
but quite safe really, compared to everything else, for safe hipsters
back via the connecting alley and down another twisted opening
past the shoemaker with his paper patterns on the wall
Steven puts coins in the hand of a man by the wall and they whisper in passing
without stopping to look each other in the face.

(notes made while walking in the Fez Medina so I could find our way back to our lodging)

Arabesques

August 26, 2012

Arabesques: “La Rosa,” Rocío Màrquez and Christian Boissel, International Sacred Music Festival, Fez, Morocco, June 2012 from Theresa Whitehill on Vimeo.

I am merely a member of the audience, attending the music festival, using my iPhone to capture a moment in my life that I have been waiting for since I was 19 (now 54) when I traveled to Granada, Spain, and first understood the importance of Federico García Lorca, and became myself a poet. He wrote a number of poems in homage to the Andalusian Moorish poets, and this video is an homage in return. Rocío Màrquez and Christian Boissel put his poetry to music and perform for an international audience in Fez, Morocco, a center of scholarship and heartland to the Sufi tradition of the Muslim religion. A lifetime of understanding came together…

In this video, they are interpreting the poem, “La Rosa” from García Lorca’s Divan del Tamarit, “Divan” being the Arabic for a literary collection, and “Tamarit” the area outside of Granada that was Lorca’s family home.