Sleepless City
Federico Garciá Lorca/ Keith James

Out in the sky, no one sleeps, no one sleeps
Out in the sky, no one sleeps, no one….

With the eyes and the nose of a wolf at your window
And the feebled heart of each mile feels the silence of light

Out in the world, no one sleeps, no one sleeps
Out in the world, no sleeps, no one….

We have fallen down stairs with our mouths in the dirt
We heave breathless to snow on the shelves
We have fingered the coins of careless oblivion
Only to find ourselves

And each day will be filled with butterflies
That have risen, sealed from dirt
And we will walk above the ocean, above the rotting hulls of death
Only to find ourselves

No duerme nadie por el cielo, por el cielo
No duerme nadie por el cielo, por el cielo

Our mouths grow together, grafted with kisses
A tangle of Siamese veins
And he who fears death will weather each day in chains

Out in the sky, no one sleeps, no one sleeps
Out in the sky, no one sleeps, no one….

No duerme nadie por el cielo, por el cielo
No duerme nadie por el cielo, por el cielo
Nadie
Nadi

In My Secret Life
Leonard Cohen

I saw you this morning.
You were moving so fast.
Can’t seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There’s no one in sight.
And we’re still making love
In My Secret Life.

I smile when I’m angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do what I have to do
To get by.
But I know what is wrong,
And I know what is right.
And I’d die for the truth
In My Secret Life.

Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I’ll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of My Secret Life.

Looked through the paper.
Makes you want to cry.
Nobody cares if the people
Live or die.
And the dealer wants you thinking
That it’s either black or white.
Thank G-d it’s not that simple
In My Secret Life.

I bite my lip.
I buy what I’m told:
From the latest hit,
To the wisdom of old.
But I’m always alone.
And my heart is like ice.
And it’s crowded and cold

Broken Windows

Keith James
extracted  from Lorca’s poems Ruin and Waltz in the branches
From Poet in New York 1929-30

The leaves that fall through broken windows
A fish that swims into the moon
The eyes and tongue that dance like puppets
To a paper violin
And the sun could freeze the earth
In less than thirty days
And the branches will wrestle in the wind
Until all the leaves have blown away

And as I search through broken windows
A bird was stolen from its nest
Collecting footsteps in the mountain
For all the days that came to rest
But soon the moon becomes a skull
And all life becomes a whore
Fingers touch through broken glass
Seams of blood dry on the floor

Watch the sun rise in the east
Ignite a million streams of flame
Hear the cry of every mother
Witness the death that has no name
All our shadows will turn to statue
Wearing laurels on their heads
Until only you and I remain
Wrapped in shrouds upon our beds

Doma mi mano amor, mi mano amor
Por los cristales rotos
Doma mi mano amor, mi mano amor
Por los cristales rotos

Shade

Nabokov/Keith James

It is my best time in the morning
It is my preferred season ahead
I once overheard myself waking
While half of me still slept in bed

I tore my spirit free
And caught myself on the lawn
Where clover leaves cupped the topaz of dawn
And Shade stood in his shirt and one shoe

And then I realised
That the other half too was asleep
Both of us laughed, and I awoke
Safe in my bed as day it’s eggshell broke

Robins walked and then stopped
And on the damp gemmed turf a brown shoe lay
My secret  stamp, the mystery inborn
Miracles, miracles, midsummer morn

The Hands Of Never Been

Keith James

And there we were in mid July
Bare feet on the neighbours steps
Where pity spread the sour milk of our regrets

Silence was the only word
We never heard, it never spoke
Of dust behind the calloused  souls of village folk

But sharper than any light
Eyes that search the corners men have never filled
Sharper than any light

The hand that brushed the domino
The cowgirl with the bravest  voice
The monotone of uniform that lost its choice

Bleeker was the painting
He forgot to sign and never framed
Where every door any alley weeps with drops of rain

Night became the perfect day
The father know one’s ever seen
When time protects the worried hands
When time protects the worried hands

The hands of never been