Set adrift down Providence streets,
blown along by chilly air,
this autumn Atlantic weather
in the Ocean State... gray cloud-fleets
follow birthday Hobo, his big-baby
muttering – a nonsense
tremolo from Jonah’s
whale-gut habitat (her kingdom’s maybe
someday). Like Apollinaire slaloming
dolphin-rime atop a marble
door in Rimini, warbling
his trompette marine (something
about a Frisco treasure chest
in a hurricane eye) – or
Bluejay Slocum, Shaker
salt in pauper’s Dauphin-quest...
your sailor’s air, so fortunate
pipes down from the future
on Ariadne lure.
Hookline for deep sinker – bright
hand who flew from the poop deck
waving from waves his
(JJ-pendant, octahedral speck).
Wisdom’s justified in all her children
plays out the line from high-
strung Miriam. Sky milk-
train sounds – all home free then.