Balancing books on Tin-Top Hill


Here in the cozy habitat
of Cecil St. – Chester-
cat, snug in his nest
(or hut) near the Witch’s Hat

on Tower Hill (old Clifton
Fadiman abode) – Le Roi
est mort, Vive le Roi
brazen carillons cry (Berryman

fleet flute-plot) – I’m remembering
Rhode Island.  Ocean State.
Providence, full spate –
tight-furled concert, in a spring

of industrial silver (Jewelry
Capital of the World).
Hazelnut head, all pearled
with raven breakers... like the sea

my gong-struck muse (Medusa chord).
Apollinaire will bear
the burden of the air
leaning against brick wall... absurd

farewell to fiery squid (trompette
marine).  Buried in roses,
granite Roger poses
on Tin-Top Terrace – a light

unto both Gentile & Jew (washed-up
driftwood apple tree
in prow of paddle-me);
balances books on his coffin-cusp.


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