Grace Ravlin


The summer’s Sky-Reflector-Net
is replicated in a gentle
eye : matrix of the spindle,
mote where lattice angles meet.

From Providence to Paradise
a simple triple-step,
sideways & back.  Steep
recapitulation – say, Toulouse

to Matilda, Queensland to Provence –
by cavern candlelight;
those hallowed aliens might
be us; San Vitale’s green silence

the dawn of some Franciscan renaissance.
She is the tender sphere’s
orbit... her love inheres
in eggshell domes, the garden’s permanence

Apollinaire after the war
ash in his peace pipe
Georgina with ripe
plum   to hand   so far

from feral death’s-head   pride   spite
the nations sleep   their rage
assuaged   hate in its cage
for now   low flute   bonsoir, bonne nuit

Grace Ravlin sets her easel there
Overlooking George Washington’s
Garden   good evening, Cyrus
greetings, Rose   O somersault   sweet air


Grace Ravlin : Overlooking George Washington's Garden, 1922

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