Somewhere deep in the Quarter
The secret of a city lives.
A spot of Spirit
A treasure buried, emanating
An inexplicable cadence,
One spot from which all weird life stems.

Shot through with music
Shot through with brilliant blue,
An utterance from ancient languages
A crystal stream flowing out
In six directions.

Ever-flowing, ever-abundant
Ever-nurturing,
Destroying as it builds and rebuilds.

Residing in the primordial ooze
Bubbling up from the street,
Bubbling up through the language,
The notes, the laughter, the pain,
The tears, an ecstatic brew.
Tearing apart the rhymes, resonance, logic.
A gift of a Spirit universal.

– Richard Bienvenu  Jan 2010