shade of fig trees


I remember the tall shade of fig trees
on Observatory Hill
in Sydney, their colossal
spread feet lifting leafy memories.

The diamond hologram glinting
upstairs – the Southern Cross
a silver doubleness,
a micro-mirror (winking, hinting).

Dante in Ravenna, on the coast
of swamps & tamaracks
the scars of Whites & Blacks
scorching his palm (a sulfur-host)

felt a light flute-breeze ruffle
his conch-shell ear
whispering draw near
beheld Matilda waltz the Buffalo

(an aboriginal design
painted on granite
for Woodpecker-flight
framing two Thunder-twins benign)

& plumbed the gravity of clay
that wheels so slowly
through mortality
toward candescent kiln-fired Day

of Jubilee   the metamorphoses
of starfish realms to stars
the green & gold pillars
of corn & wheat   Georgina’s

laughter in the new-mown fields.
So her green-almond eyes
drew Alighieri to Vitale’s
arc of Paradise (welds

souls into an infant baptistery,
a fan of everlasting
life).  Interesting,
murmurs iconoclast Henry

Hobo   but I would bend the lens
slightly   enfold the ray
into a Bay of Biscay
alphabet soup   Beguine begin-agains

based on an anchored oaken ark
of milky bread & wine
the whole human communion
in the sun of mnWmn (spark

from a Galilean jewel of light).
Inside the delicate crystal
gently circling... still
potter’s whirl from infinite night

around the whisper gallery
Twine Monastery
pregnant humble glory
of Francesca (Piero’s poverty)

leaves mutter in the sea-breeze
just beyond the orange
bridge   Georgina’s Grange
the dusty gardeners   Maria sees


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