Metamorphosis by Sergio Alvarez It is winter when I leave my home in the crepuscular morning. Summer when I return at twilight. Spring occurs somewhere in the in-between though I am not witness to it. Men, women, children, the old folks, policemen, doctors, writers, bus drivers, wage workers, mothers, veterans of fathomless wars remain in permanent state under tombstones in graveyards in Queens. And although they are forever unchanged in our memories, even the dead are not immune to metamorphosis. We begin as atoms, molecules, corpuscles. We acquire the stuff of life. Our clock guided by a persistent shock of electricity. When it ceases, the animate return to the world of the inert. Wood, earth, stone, steel seem unmoving when viewed from a distance. But enter the darkened chambers of the brain, heart, intestines, spleen, liver, the thickening highways of our veins, you will find that molecules devolve, dissolve, desiccate. In furnace flames, calcine bone appears. Then dirt. Then dust.
Born in Madrid, Sergio Alvarez moved to New York City at a young age. He studied playwriting under Karl Friedman and theater at Purchase College. After college, Sergio moved to Alta, Utah where he was a dish washer, waiter, handyman, ski repairman, firefighter and free-skier. Upon his return to New York City, Sergio has alternately been a bookseller, boxer, painter, translator, graphic artist, jazz musician, and writer. He studied creative writing at Gotham Writer’s Workshop, the Unterberg Center for Poetry, the St Marks Poetry Project, and New York University. He currently splits his time living in New York and Madrid. He performs his words throughout New York City with the Inspired Word. He runs with the bulls in Pamplona.