OLMEC TEETH
Providence, a meeting-house of rivers.
Moshassuck, Woonasquatucket...
Narragansett alphabet.
Key into the Language (Roger’s
hopeful idiom). Green valley space
for some invisible Seeker-
church – plain Shaker
chair for Eli, or Henry (grace
supplementing human nature
like a mild blessing
before Thanksgiving).
Can we do this, Roger? Sure.
Providence, a circling campfire
of Renaissance persons.
Like a Rembrandt summons
to be humble (as St. Matthew’s ear
to voice of dark-haired angel).
Listen, proud Ferrara –
not to glose of Schifanoia,
but shade-garden of Bassani-spell.
The meekness of a soft goldfinch
will be memorial
for what was already eternal,
always. As our Redemption is a cinch
for flighty heartbeat (underneath
the chain-link). Grail-canoe
or eye-in-hand – you
fled into thin air, through Olmec teeth.
5.6.19
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