begin the Beguine

MINOR 7TH

There’s a baby high chair in the river

made of sycamore wood

(from Sycamore St., in old

Providence) – you could flip it over

& make a little car of it.

But the Miss is frozen solid –

can’t break the mold,

flow thru, maybe.  Love-seat

slung low.  The mood’s on Henry

sometimes, to be sittin’ there

– like Neptune, or Great Hare

the Leapin’ Dauphin (Huckleberry?) –

beyond the marina, where all the waters

congregate.  With Jeanne-

So-Dark of New Orleans,

the Cedar Queen (through the main door,

là.  La-la).  Her Rio never ends,

her rain is circulating

even now, hump King –

no matter which boar hounds, pretends.

Henry’s babble splinters echoes

down the ice.  Yet the flute

welds sheepskin & galoot

into a chord both Greeks & Hebrews

play (sustained diminished minor

7th, maybe, on

Ojibwan theremin).

Siddown – begin the Beguine, sailor.

2.3.17