Air is mirror-brilliant today, even
shadows cut clean
across Touro slate.
Mid-September, slanting sun,
a New Year for an old people.
Someone plays a flute
off Morris Ave... fleet
foot sails into New World marble.
As in a low relief in Rimini –
an august Agostino
Venus, or Diana
whorled in limestone dithyramb
out of the sea. The jutting cliff
crusted with barnacles
whittles its pinnacle’s
bowsprit, figurehead – her glyph
(lifted in one hand-wave) twin
crashing surf...) where time began.
Your moon along the shore, Apollinaire.
crest across seasons,
granite castles – seagull’s mother,
feathering horsegrass in your hair.
Jeanne’s grey-eyed icon (Galla’s lair).
"Venus Beats All"