RAZOR BEAK
The human family of human
families – clay
honeycomb array
in earth-colors – aims for a zone
of radiant plenitude – sustained
chord from a horn of plenty,
hived in community –
a milk-&-honey land, ingrained
along a cedar path of goodness
clear as winter air
warm as Apollinaire
chanting his biplane with finesse
Parisienne. A Spirit of St. Louis
circling the blazing crown
of Liberté floats down
into the eagle-nest of Chartres
whose rose rim complements that Gate
of soaring human freedom
anchored to the thrum
of one great river’s beating heart.
So pictures flicker in the stream
of Mississippi dream
for one forlorn sunbeam
or hazel-mote, her gypsy scheme...
one footloose soul, one rambler
who would be gone from jail
before the frozen hail
of Hitler-Stalin-Xi-Putin (& gambler
Kim Jong-un) congeals into one
mammoth concrete hulk
of tearful despot-sulk –
one massive Man of Unknown
Snowjobs – Don the Golden Duck-
&-Coverling, the Beast
who gives offense the most
& smears the human face with muck.
So honchos of the earth lift up
their horns, a little while;
they cannot reconcile
their pride with that ineffable fop
who spins the elegant galaxies
here to infinity
*
right from eternity
& lifts the heart to ecstasies
of fellowship & harmony –
the sparkling of justice
mercy righteousness
high paths of gentle charity
Saturnian rings of human union
knotting the universe
within one Paradise
plainsong (trompette marine).
The turbid tumult of the beaten-down
rattles the reeds, troubles
the swarming crows – bubbles
explode – all the high-flown
rhetoric disintegrates under
the trampling of grass
by panicked herds (alas).
& yet there is another thunder
gathering in clouds above the oaks,
beneath the sea – low hum
of some beehive continuum –
sun-wheel, whose fiery spokes
feather to wings of Thunderbird –
enormous golden shade
whose raptor-beak’s a blade
of dragon-prow – Norsemen’s weird
serpent-egg on river-tree
sailing to Kiev, now –
St. George’s silver plow
upturning soil to poetry
salting the roots of tyranny
to shrivel them at last
beneath a trumpet-blast
of global human sovereignty –
the almond salience of a union-dome
bright coins of humanism
ringing a cataclysm
for every fraudulent kingdom
& every despot on the earth.
This eagle’s razor beak
has just begun to speak –
a tender rain, wisdom & truth.
1.14.17
No comments:
Post a Comment