3.12.2019

it begins w'Thou




ROSE ISLAND

If I had a mind like Aristotle
Augustine or Aquinas
able with calm patience
to unfold the metaphysical

origami of the whole
rose-petalled ensemble
of creation, mon semblable...
– shimmering Ocean River, roll!

Everything hinges on a little tree
– willow or almond,
sycamore, elm –
transmuted into living body;

tall ash, strong oak of poetry
spilling Imago Dei
(with verbal carpentry)
into an Argo-trimmed Horus-eye

of Providence.  It begins w’Thou.
Psyche’s agate lamp
winking through the swamp
of live-oak garlands signals true

(one if by land, two if by sea)
– leads on to victory
over my own frailty –
out of buried man, a new Henry!

Where the rose Venn diagram
of departed lips whispers
through golden calipers
a reconciliation of I am

              *

& ever shall be (simple psalm
adrift over clay towers)
cloisters the eye’s powers
in immaculate seaworthy emblem –

mandorla (your birchbark canoe).
O light of knowledge
from beyond knowledge,
heart’s mystic bridge mirrored below

at River’s edge!  Whose Jonah lifts
dove-light from deeps,
& as a dolphin leaps
beyond Atlantic hieroglyphs

the figure of an infant Son of Man
bobs in her coracle
newborn – primordial
origin, eye of hurricane!

The free conscience, soul liberty
subsists within your peace
which passeth, Golden Fleece –
lamb of the Lammas loaf, mercy

& flame of lambent fellowship;
stone mosaics in Ravenna
& the tomb of Alighieri
radiate the scent... lambs skip

there, in the cradle of our limbs,
beneath the opening flower
of your glance!  O bower
& rose island – spring of river-hymns!

3.12.19



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