Languid, voluptuous, orange

This poem forms a pair with the previous one (see yesterday's blog entry).


This wheel’s unseen circumference
includes a coffee can
from Hart – a Savarin,
no? – looping a salience

of tulip spires (languid, voluptuous,
orange).  For Hart, Johns
sounded gray Ocean
& signaled with a palm Love’s

one transparent spring (from deep
to deep).  A little tree –
lemon? – mustard, maybe;
the orange flourish of a steep

green trumpet, embracing its iron
lattice like a bride
in May... no one can hide
from Love’s almond dominion.

This doctrine bides each alteration.
A sigh amid these wheels
rides wing├Ęd heels
from scythe to seedy germination –

Time’s origin (space-flowering).
Leaf-whispers from a pair
of olive trees, who share
one catenary pattern... stirring

life-draft, dangled from twin pillars,
lifted toward Pacific
azure – scarred, terrific
sentinels of hope (hers, yours).


Tulips (Nancy Hart)

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