29 An Icon
woke up this mornin' with my mind
set on freedom. . .
I wanted to make you happy with another poem,
& as the star of a nation droops low
in the great NW sky I wanted to flood you
with fishbaskets from Rome, Byzantium
& as the voice of Marian Anderson
ricochets off the Memorial (& over the
heads of the D.A.R.) I wanted the star
(with its consort of muffled organ)
to surface – and plumb the mansions of heaven
& these desires of mine
hung there pendulous like fireworks,
or all the other & Various Works of Man –
waiting, waiting (like sheepdogs – wandering barks)
for the miracle of your ink-black inspiration
8.21.2003
& another one (I like the way this transmits the original typesetting, thanks Mike Snider):
Labels:
Island Road,
Mike Snider
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