Fontegaia, still buzzing...


If there is to be a Jubilee indeed
it will seep like sap from the reign of Pax
at ease there on her footrest (stacks
of worn-out shields) recumbent on her seedy

couch & it will be deep-lasting, steady-flowing
like an Amazon or Nile carrying along all sorts
of vessels large & small freighted with quaint
& local cargo with room in the hold for going

far into the interior of summer & it will be
something like this elusiveness in the backyard
after work the day's heat lifting when the shade
of the maples (my vision focusing) seems (faintly,

barely) to open another eye behind my eyes
something dilates (almost) an eye of memory
& this fragile overlay of now & then is sweet
to me & slightly bitter too (an almond joy

from Mendelssohn) & Jubilee will not be solely
this or that but the whole orchestra in concert
we want no less than childhood happiness afloat
in the midst of a gentle civilization Heidi &

Henry astride their duelling pianos practicing
for each other across Arthur Street & the hoopoe
(through a hula-hoop) shuttling across their purple
passages love-sick like Solomon & Sheba testing

each other with spelling bees & hard questions
while the bees build archways of paired eyebrows
sun & moon silver & gold blue & green &
rise overhead in streams of free B-flight formations

[note : Mendelssohn is a neighborhood in Hopkins, MN. Pax, here, refers to the figure in the Siena Town Hall fresco.]

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