PINK TUGBOAT
I retrace my steps again
along the River Road
past Granddad’s solid old
brick fortress. A trumpet vine
shines orange & green, climbing
a mud-brown corner into
August light. I’ll go
down to that riverbank now, rhyming
with Nile & Jordan, Voronezh, Po –
a stream that crosses borders,
winding atlatl corridors
so sinuous & serpentine, into
the gray matière, the mutter-mouth...
sea-grotto of an Ocean
State (salt origin
of shanty-song). From north to south
diagonal, my yellow gyroscope
leans, vaulting on thread
from Gate of the Dead
(whose soft, dense orange-&-azure rope-
ladder lifts up the gravity of stolid
steel & staggered stone)
to Magdalenian
interior... & cartwheels there – Bride
of convex grassland cave-complex –
Cahokia coyote-
gal, whose Galilee
glee-zone (primordial) sketches a hex-
*
agon – galactic rumble-stir
of light-warp milky skein
or reign of windy Wayne,
pouring a Who-He? mirror-
ray into the rainbow trine
of spray-tossed clement
Clementine. Cement
shoes will not keep her in the brine
of Poseidon forever – see her shadow
stride the surface now!
With pink tugboat in tow
paintered to Ariadne’s golden bow
– refracted ball of lambswool, bent
through Roger Williams’ granite
lintel – Dante’s bright
brooder-line. The Great Commandment
coming down from Manitou
like light... it is
not liable to conquest –
conscience is free, a gift to you
who seek for Me. A wheeling sword
glinted above a garden;
a ring of apple trees, hidden
in shade of Sant’Apollinaire. Word
melody green hummingbird vine
Guillaume’s trompette marine
a secret acorn Queen
of Royal Oak (she is a 5 & 29)
8.17.16
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