REMBRANDT WORLD
Imagine a humble Rembrandt world
(domestic hellenism, say)
where everything is (replay,
rusty Super-8) revealed –
unsealed, familiar testament
wherein you were sown
amid Grant Wood corn
(Birthplace of Herbert Hoover), bent
beneath pewter thunderheads
like wheat long-planted
at a battlefield (wind-
harrowed silos, homesteads).
By the rude bridge that arched the flood
– the wordspan, carved against
despair (Grace hastens
with her furnace-lamp... slight lift of mood)
here once the embattled farmers stood
– measuring early earth,
where your Dream (4th
of J?) becomes flesh & blood
& fired the shot heard round the world.
Ariosto in Ferrara,
say – that avian eye
on tyranny (Limentani’s branded
heron-lid). Poetry is resistance
against the Emperor
of pyramidal distemper;
Concord... Voronezh... (buoyant equivalence).
4.19.18
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