Old man Boethius


In the ash-gray sky, where the ravens drift
in the Bruegel scene, over winter
panorama – harbor
& skating rink, riddle & gift...

In remote perspective, the raven’s eye
reaps furtive memory,
most ancient flame.  We
walked together, you & I

down the dawn street, in spousal light;
only a pigeon-murmur
echoed our passage there.
The hearth’s full of embers (life is night).

Old man Boethius steps out
his syllables, each
vowel like a cherished
peach.  This radiance will cast

doubt into shade (beneath pine branches
where salted gratitude
savors his fortitude).
Beatrice-Columbia suddenly launches

into sweet aria of praise
when Jonah surfaces
from dove-grey eyes
of everlastingness   Apollinaire’s

fumes   filter into laughter
War to End All Wars
a cloverleaf surprise
renders mercy on earth   hereafter


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