Steadfast in the furnace they were dancing
sparks, undaunted motes. Within gray
cloud formations, heavyweight
metals, ultraviolet rays. Pong, ping.
The amorphous force bent the almond
limbs, the chestnut candelabra;
the view took on some abracadabra
tincture, primed by spectral wand-
baton. Its name was long,
Hurt palpable, sweetness
close by - long was its name,
prevailing its mark.
The span of one brave arm
across your shoulders - come
and go with me... here we embark,
That beacon flickered through the brain-fog,
lastingly - your kaleidocosmic mystagogue
bent toward one ray, revolving, sure.
And lifted toward dawn. Beyond
tumult of sawing, sighing pines,
toward an ordinary roaming-round -
toward a morning dome in Trebizond,
a walk downtown in Providence.
How explain yon salty commonweal?
It were a sea-bred constancy, the feel
for aslant, a-deck. Longing-experience.