Sketch (from canoe)


The rough sketch reaches back
so deep into beforetimes
like those caves of limestone
dolphins, walking... some refraction

in the water-filter flips Time over
into clear half-moonlight,
where Word-is-Psyche
typed into a graveyard clover

prints snowfeet along Minnesota
River, cemetery
ridge of Irish faery-
land (Apollinaire in Georgia).

Hard to explain.  Grace Ravlin
what thou lovest well
this garden, under spell
of summer sun (your Washington

laboratory).  Someone brave
magnanimous & kind
who vaults the epic rind
from orange threadspan (architrave

of salt-blue ice).  An Ocean State
of mind, where ships sail
slowly down to Coral
Sound, abeam some forthright

rabbit lighthouse, trembling.
Forgive me, it is so.
Earth is very slow
a-borning.  Here (one dead bee-sting).


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