O calm August river, weaving
under your ceiling of gray
fluff! I’d like to say
you are a figure for Edith, rocking,
singing Sophie to sleep, somewhere
above Ethiopian night.
I’d like to formulate
a lamp in a window, out there
on a foggy lump in Narragansett Bay –
Rose Island Light, maybe –
what stands for certainty
in the midst of rocky sea, the sway
of tide. They’re almost finished now
with the bridge repair.
Her double eyebrows bear
their concrete filigree, & show
twin circles in the river’s glass.
Their delicate embrace
a fractal carapace
for curving lips of one round lass –
a sea-green pebble, calipered
by radiant massive Einstein
armature. So shine,
my lighthouse pine – like shy brown bird
or Great Blue Heron – one sharp eye
across the moving waters!
Agape holds stars
in loving stillness – rhyming sky
with earth. It is an ur-rhyme, personal –
an anchored spider-skiff,
chaste common akme (Eeyore-humble);
like moony pleb with sunny Phoebus,
with domed Apollinaris,
Love is that hearth-melding force
that fuses Unity & Liberty –
soul freedom is the spark
of arcs. I found a monarch,
lonely, in the donkey straw you see
down by the iron river (pausing,
perhaps, between White
House & Soldier’s Rest).
We bowed to one another, browsing
sheared grass, cordially.
The song began like this –
a dream made manifest,
Railsplitter... prodigal Boy...
held in grey threads of dog days’
dawnlight. Soft rainbow
pigeon croon – low
throaty turtledove song-maze –
dream-songe across the meadowlands
of languages & worlds
farfalla-far – she whirls
& jags... floats into cedar hands.
Franklin Ave. Bridge