AERIE-FEAST
Music of ordinary things...
happiness at work,
when things go OK –
when the work is good, & skill brings
flowers to fruition; then at dusk
heading home, to family
& friends, where kids play
beneath a sturdy roof (hard task
fulfilled with courteous precision)...
plain telos of humanity,
pleroma of reality,
continuum of beauty’s diapason.
Grandfather’s house of rusty brick
along the River Road –
an engineer’s abode,
who loved an opera (Elvira’s cheek)...
One high lone raven corkscrews toward
the Pole. This pillager
is Eli’s forager –
his black-hole fleece ties ragged
knots, makes nest for bread & wine.
Look how the prophet-priest
exalts his aerie-feast
where Time peals to a finish line,
B-flat – è FIAT... è finit.
Apollinaire smiles
in the wings – miles
overhead his plane lifts (azure, infinite).
9.28.16
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