i.m. Nelson Mandela


Winter fog like cold sea-spray
filters through Providence.
Mystifying substance
of an ember hope (Isaiah... hey

ey yo).  Long northern nights tilting
toward Pearl Harbor,
India Point (spare
rose gyroscope).  Melting

through ice barricades, at last
(27 years, gone
into light).  Some yarn
entangles history – a mast

for Admiral Nelson (constellation
of a heaven-yard).  The ship!
Bound for that whisper-
signet... Southern Chris-Craft, spun

yonder (with Gandhi, MLK –
whorl, Milky Way). Blessed
be they who finally kissed
the sky (tall Eureka-tree

nursing Po’s Eridanus, and
the other three).  There is
a gemstone, set beneath this
coffin (folded in a flag)... grand

father of fathers, king of kings,
your little almond tree
of ripe humility
is peace-weaver tonight.  Blessings.


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