Had to subtract a section of this poem (the old #20 - hopeless). So am shifting them around. Here's the new #21.

21

 
Providence rooftops and walls
from the library window (reddish
pink, red-russet, rust-red).  Flush
with autumn, always (old colonial

 
brick-pile).  Not much different
from the brown Siena cityscape
of the fresco (mappamundo,
mappamundo).  Lorenzetti bent

 
his figures around corners - loved
overlaps - the hide-and-seek
(parenthetical hypotheticals peek
like Francisco round his mule's beloved

 
ass).  Like the ambiguous griffin
Dante saw buttressed in Nina's eyes
(humandivine) Providence shies
between your dream and mine -

 
how to explain?  It's not on television.
The box within a box, the wave
beneath the wave, the grave
Agave (brave three-master).

(Agave and Agave, courtesy of Wikipedia)