WILD GRAPES
A timid April tiptoes toward
her Spring. Gun-gray sky,
leaf-brown river. Hobo’s eye
moseys from earth to heaven (&
backward, again). Raven loops
his knotty diagram,
figures 8 a.m.
some eats (thin scraps he scoops
betwixt instinctual communal hates
of squawky flocks, nations).
Noah’s inflammations
Eli salts – warns, Don’t be late.
Fuming smoke signals just
add to his unease.
Alighieri aims to please –
his bones rest in Franciscan dust,
his narrow beak angles from spark
to spark. Hearth-embers
flicker out drear winters of
scalding be-ice. Imperial dark
is splintered by gold threads of light –
lamb-thin graphene ravels
the cave-mouth – mangy hovels
hearken to trompette marine (slight
return). Apollinaire or Orpheus,
shepherds in New Orleans,
Ravenna... rustic scenes.
Under an overpass (U.S.
*
or Rus) refugees convene,
lean farmers share
their plows... while everywhere
stones ricochet like bayonets (mean
answers mean, unkind unkind).
The law is not a sword;
it is a binding word
uniting variable humankind
proceeds from love, & so returns –
one warm traveling lamp
from isolated camp to camp
where Roger & Canonicus trade yarns
& Edward Elk defends each Everyone
upon egalitarian
thread-frame (one golden
safety net for all the wobbly children
of sweet Manitou). Cautantowwit
whispers a Narragansett
name over each hamlet-
nest in Providence. Let’s eat.
The gathering of crumbs, wild grapes
& hobos has begun.
Mississippi sun
beams west, southwest... Pacific shapes
crest arcs of rainbow (orange, indigo,
azure & rose)... an Ocean
State anchors her span –
Hope’s incarnation (Jonah show).
4.10.17
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