*This poem was a part of my This Place Has A Voice project*

Images.
Beats.
Words.

These are the building blocks of my human experience
These are the strings that weave into my worldview
Every feeling has the perfect image to express it
Every moment has a chord
And every thought I have constructs itself through words

In between the plot points
Before the conversation sending shivers through my consciousness
Before fate presents is presence in the present
I walk the city with headphones emanating the harmonies of the moment
The mystic measures that breathe life into my mental backdrops
The notes, like quantum structures both corporeal and spiritual
Bounce in between my eardrums like particles
And dilute themselves into the scenery like waves of existence
Constructing the forms into reality with every beat

The moment when I step outside in the urban oasis is both visceral and cerebral
When you think about it
At their core all cities are jazz
Provocative, subtlety sensual and slightly improvised
They take the sounds and sense of nature and twist it,
Into a satisfying if chaotic organic artifice
Deftly crafted urban jungles of invasive species

sounds,
cars,
rhythms

and bodies in motion.

It is beautiful

It is life

It is vibrancy in action

This beauty is my sustenance
This gorgeous array of crafted nature
Is the fuel that feeds my creativity

Like newly lit coals burning slowly at dusk
Giving of just enough light and warmth as the sun disappears
There is a certain disproportionate symmetry to my walks through the city.

The city is massive, sprawling
It has more nooks and crannies
Alleys and parks
Than my mind can comprehend at once
Yet as the sun rises or sets over the skeletal streets
Whether it’s the first rays bouncing off the sky-like façade of buildings
Or the last light being absorbed by the street lamp appendages
These walks expand my essence into the incomprehensibility of Washington
And the city becomes my body.

I feel the gritty asphalt beneath my shoes
And I feel my weight pressing down upon myself
The wheels of the skate boards tickle my skin
As I feel the patterns of brick on tips of my fingers.
I am so large and so small at once.