12th Night fol-de-rol

ROYAL BEAN

This airy painted Christmas ball

with its river of snowflakes,

twin gondola remakes

wobbling between the RISD Market Hall

& Industrial National Bank –

old Providence downtown.

Little lonesome microcosm

some winter night.  World on the brink.

In New Orleans, in the French Quarter

they’re rifling a king cake

for the royal bean.  What make

& manner of lass or laddie shall be heir?

Assail the wassail; mayhap we’ll see.

Everything is topsy-turvy.

Plastic Jesus is a curvy

smiley-doll – wee replica of you & me.

Let’s party.  Okean River flows

down from Milky Way

to Ocean State... happy

birthday!  Queen Flower-Child knows

all about Path P; X mark ze spot

where little Charlie’s acorn

sprung into a tall greenhorn.

Watching over still – almond knot-

maze in flutestones of Chartres

(her name is Jessie)

wavering out of Galilee.

Canoes bear her palladium (& ours).

1.5.19

Twelfth Night hullabaloo

OKLAHOMA COAT

I recall those Tudor trumpeters

fanfaring Henry 5th

at the old Guthrie.  Fife &

drum for Toby Falstaff – his theater’s

in the round, all right.  The sonic boom

of a real cannon shook

us out of our seats.  Look!

that’s Jessica T., with the broom –

playing Cesario! – or is she

Queen of Twelfth Night,

planting a silver bullet

in her wedding cake?  Most probably.

I remember reading The King Must Die.

The rites of succession

were crude by comparison

with today.  His finger in every pie,

the Prince had a plum job – lasted

one whole year.  Then

he fell for the Star-Queen

& they found another sacred bastard.

Today we have the Electoral College.

You must be gerrymandered

in order to graduate her;

everybody obeys the original Pledge

of Allergic, with His 12 Dependments.

& one day Malvolio ate

the bean – it was so great!

Tasted like the Ten Commandments

                      *

wrapped in almond nougat, or agate –

Mal became President!

Chef beyond Precedent!

Crowds thundered – Lock up the Maggot!

The Queen fled into hiding, dragging

little Tom Thumb (her twin

brother) into the griffin-

wagon – where they belonged (Sing-Sing)...

Twin Cities was a refuge, then.

Blue heron, bald eagle...

Nothing felt so regal

in that rickety barn, where it all began –

yet somehow, through dread Minnesota

winters, yon honeycomb

tholos kept warm.

In her threadbare Oklahoma coat

bees nested, Woodpecker feasted,

Thunderbird broke the tree;

a little acorn Charlie-

horse became a baby Easter-

chick.  Her Royal Henress brooded

over all the shady dealings

stumping the common wailings

of the groundlings – trampled by hooded

Midas moony-men (roundheads

of Malvolio’s pale clan).

It was just a party plan.  &

Wise Men had their own (not Herod’s).

1.5.17