Autumn already in the air. The lace
net lifts slightly in the window
breeze. Down the road
a train thunders steadily across
the iron bridge. Eads, in St. Louis
same river in St. Paul
descends into incessant sluice-
ways. At Fond du Lac, Guillaume
will wave his pipe the smoke
floats in blue planes OK.
Autumnal, your pellucid tomb.
Under a beautiful water-mirror
flows the safety net.
My waif on the parapet,
my Juliet... little evergreen spear
crowning a rangy monarch span –
my songe, my sign, my Seine.
Cloverleaf Corn Maiden
twirls her blue-green mist of pine
on heron-foot again Sophia
skips through the basilica
her grey eyes scan geomatria
here twin circles merge, twin shores
align omega points
& Maggie Galilee anoints
her Galileo with the milk of stars
Today is the birthday of poet Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918)