• Michael Forbus
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THE ORCHIDS OF PUMPKIN HEARTS AND PEARL LEAVES

THE ORCHIDS OF PUMPKIN HEARTS AND PEARL LEAVES LA CUCINA I am in the kichen roasting chiles and you are in your studio playing The Gypsy Kings and quite loud, I might add. I began to think, as the chiles charred, of all the Merengue we had danced and the Tango when we were so young that we would dance the whole of the night and take shot after shot in clebration of the Great Manitas de Plata. The fingers of silver they called him and his brother would pound anything wood and keep your rhythm steady. The Kings began to play "Bombalero" a song we always would dance so fast and dizzying too. It was not Tango, so staid and slow and methodical and almost as if the dancers are just clothing away from having sensual sex on the dance floor. It is the beautiful dance, like classical flamenco against the nuevo. There is no comparison, their lives are differente'. Suddendly the music changed again to the Dance song Baile, Baile and I heard you turn it up. I knew what you had in mind. You were tired of the paint and canvas and wanted to move with me. My Paloma, as I recall, it was a dance hall that we first met and I saw you with your hair of midnight and the eyes so deep and you stared right through me as if I was a peasant. You did not know me. But had you looked around you, you would have seen much whispering and pointing my way. They were speaking of the fight I had that day with the deadly Muerte de la Hombres Bravos. You being a dancer to feed your mother who took you in when the pinche Facistas took your family. You were young and alone. All manner of pimps and old men tried to get to you and you, so stong and non-willing to do their bidding would run lake a tigre to get away. I think that is why you can dance the night until the dawn breaks. An old abuelo took you in, she feared for you. You took all the pesitas home to the one who took you in, every pinche centavo. Nothing for yourself but a special perfume that enchanted, I had smelled it before, but for some reason you would dance with me very little until the owner the duena would force you. You always said to her that I smelt of death and it would soon be mine or I just had killed. Either way my hands were wet with blood to you. I was a handsome young man, people would tell me. Always groomed, but you knew nothing of me. I was the youngest and most brave fighter of the bull in all of Mexico. Juan de la Luz. They nicknamed me the keeper of the ears. I am sorry but I find the sport revolting. I have done it and my father and grandfather, he was gored badly and sits in a chair by the bull pen all day and sips aguadiente and loves the smell of their excretment. He drinks copa and copa untill the failure leaves him. It is a long day for him. Watching us practice the cape and laugh from the nerousness of impending death for someone or the bull. This night Dona Hortensia or Tangie we called her, the owner forced you to dance with me until I was finsihed dancing as I had bought all you bollitos. You told me, Listen to me, cabrone, I will dance with you one time, once, for all the bollitos and then no more. I pleaded to you, why, am that ugly to you. You looked at me with those eyes that you have slain me with and said, I will not touch a man involved in death. In any capacity. You spoke with such surety. But if you should ever leave the ring, you are welcome to beg to give me one and perhaps I will accept and you will never buy another bollito for your or my life. I will dance with you untill the Gods take me. If they take you first, I will take my own life. So as to sleep with you in eternity. At this time my eyes were red as Sangria. I kept looking away, but you gently put your hand to my cheek and and turned my head until you looked so deep in my eyes. I was lost. I never fought again, not even a rooster, we had enough pesitos, for life and I stretched your canvas and watched you paint and cooked for you all of those foods you love and if we did not dance every day, the Tango, Merengue, Salsa, we would have been fatter then the pigs we keep as pets to kill the snakes. I have never been happier, and now you come in for the before dinner dance and a little of the nectar of the Gods and my lazy ass got up and we danced until we were drenched with sweat, and out of breath. We ate the holiday Chile Rellenos that night with Walnut Cream and pomegranite seeds. You ask me why I cooked such an extravagant meal for a midweek repast, I told you, my Paloma of my life, you are a celebration, you have taught me tenderness and love with out a bottom. It goes through the earth and you taught me to swim naked in all glory. And it is no sin to read poetry all day in the hammock and sometime the chores must wait on the art. Also the dinner. The art is life in paint. And you are the One who taught me to be a kind man to everything, plant, animal, drunks and whores. Always love Miguel, always with love, you would say and I know now my love, and as the guitarro finishes and the dance is over and I bow to you, my Paloma, your eyes of gold tell me that you know that I know. written by miguel Copyright by Michael Forbus.

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Anonymous Guest

Anonymous Guest 02 Aug 2006

Beautiful!

Luther Krider 18 May 2006

You are a hopeless romantic my friend. Truly talented in what ever form of art endeavor you chose.

Artist Reply: Luther, what a kind thing to say. You are right. It is something that might not be so hopeless....I have been told. You should see the kitchen work, it is my longest art form. I thank you for the sun you bring in my window. Michael

Nira Dabush 17 May 2006

Splendid composing and wonderful use of colours..i love this image..so peaceful and beautiful.

Artist Reply: Nira, my beautiful Queen of all, thank you for the sweet comments and the great feelings you leave all over me when you talk, it saves me. Michael

Lara Falcone 16 May 2006

Absolutely captivating story, this art is beautiful

Artist Reply: Lara, you sweet woman, i thank you deeply, and that story almost happened to me, Bad luck for me, it would have made me ecstatic, except I dont kill animals nor do i like to bullfight or whatch them. I do love the ending. That is the only part I came close to but someone got firghtened of her happiness. miguel My gratitude to you deeply miguel

thea walstra 15 May 2006

Very beautiful floral work Miguel and a very sweet and lovely story too

Artist Reply: My thanks Thea, were it only true. miguel