COFFIN-CUSP
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.
11.20.15
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