Quietness in Providence,
for them that can afford.
Calm streets (no Ford
Blunders). Sabbath silence.
Another year is gathered in
to history. Beautiful
vast former battlefields
blend into distance now (someone
booms a bell across a plain).
Only earth remains.
each rusted blade, unreckoned pain.
Have you not felt, have you not seen
the lovely icon of
her face, beamed from above
on limpid threads – buried in the grass
so green? Trepanned Apollinaire
smokes by her bedside,
spies stars in tears that slide
across her wide land’s cheek. There,
there. Everywoman wears
Night’s 99 candles now,
he mumbles. On your brow
anonymous rain rinses the lairs
of lost crusaders, broken kings.
Your rustic diorama’s
magnifies in miniature – brings
crèche-gifts from the galaxy
to crushed paisan, bent
slave, dishonored filament
of glory. A raven’s orthodoxy,
player’s rule – world-overturning
in one mild eye’s glance.
Epiphany or trance
transfigured into bird-learning –
the earth seen through a blade of grass,
a child’s infinity –
of spooky charity – forgiveness
born of magnanimity (O just
justice) & gratitude
(just being). Simple prelude...
groaning Shostakovich, glittering dust
of Bach & Mendelssohn – a swirl
of sound now shapes your
ghostly figure (hour-
glass, bright everlasting Pearl) –
Two strands crossed, hidden in a field.
Of night & day, of earth
& sky, of raven-black
& light-brown, blonde. A low tone sealed
their bond, a hum, a servant-song –
& then a lens caught fire
Love’s equanimity (calm tuning-prong).