shade of fig trees

OAKEN ARK

I remember the tall shade of fig trees

on Observatory Hill

in Sydney, their colossal

spread feet lifting leafy memories.

The diamond hologram glinting

upstairs – the Southern Cross

a silver doubleness,

a micro-mirror (winking, hinting).

Dante in Ravenna, on the coast

of swamps & tamaracks

the scars of Whites & Blacks

scorching his palm (a sulfur-host)

felt a light flute-breeze ruffle

his conch-shell ear

whispering draw near –

beheld Matilda waltz the Buffalo

(an aboriginal design

painted on granite

for Woodpecker-flight

framing two Thunder-twins benign)

& plumbed the gravity of clay

that wheels so slowly

through mortality

toward candescent kiln-fired Day

of Jubilee   the metamorphoses

of starfish realms to stars

the green & gold pillars

of corn & wheat   Georgina’s

laughter in the new-mown fields.

So her green-almond eyes

drew Alighieri to Vitale’s

arc of Paradise (welds

souls into an infant baptistery,

a fan of everlasting

life).  Interesting,

murmurs iconoclast Henry

Hobo   but I would bend the lens

slightly   enfold the ray

into a Bay of Biscay

alphabet soup   Beguine begin-agains

based on an anchored oaken ark

of milky bread & wine

the whole human communion

in the sun of mnWmn (spark

from a Galilean jewel of light).

Inside the delicate crystal

gently circling... still

potter’s whirl from infinite night

around the whisper gallery

Twine Monastery

pregnant humble glory

of Francesca (Piero’s poverty)

leaves mutter in the sea-breeze

just beyond the orange

bridge   Georgina’s Grange

the dusty gardeners   Maria sees

1.24.17

antipodean parks

SILVER CHEST

Uncle George the plowman zigzags calmly

weaving his furrows back 

& forth (west of Fond du Lac).

Laboring almost at rest, along his way.

The black soil teems with memories.

Childhood in Mendelssohn,

a helium balloon –

only now the fatal pine shades Miriam’s

plein air Jubilee (specific gravity

of coffin-keel).  Time,

History here touch the rim

of a labyrinth (Fro-Back, so corny)

whose perimeter outlines her face –

smiling, dreaming, lost

in the supple meadow-grass

of Eros flowering to Agape (O Grace).

Spruce Mountain rises straight ahead,

pilgrim – just south of Bonnie

Craigielee.  Matilda will be

waltzing there, in a tamarack shade

not far from the sea; she will take your hand

where kids’ bird-voices

boomerang – where earth rejoices

in equilibrium, & equity.  One command

radiates Franciscan swag of turtledove;

one cloud sheds orange arcs

over antipodean parks

of aboriginal penitence (blue Jonah-love).

8.22.16

painting by Phoebe Gould (about age 10)