On the blue horizon line

SIMPLE PROW

You see a cat stripe-shadowed

by the slats of a fence.

One of those incidents

from Mendelssohn, out of childhood

infinity... flicker of memory.

Today.  Mid-April air

and sunlight.  Barely there –

a plainness of weathered cedar, sea-

bells.  Sea-salt.  Far away

two splendor-pillars

mark the Gate of years

& gravity – shine, wave goodbye...

& on the blue horizon line

mother & father join

two hands (bright axle-sign

– a double-axe) under the sun.

Man & Woman, O (M-W)...

Come forth, my son,

my daughter, only one –

Time & Space unfold in You.

The mysterious heir of heaven

danced a masque before

Magdalen’s cave-door –

mothering the grainy leaven,

heavy loom of Here & Now.

Under faded barn slats,

hidden in straw, the cat’s

prowling a kingdom’s simple prow.

4.15.16

Moss-green idiom

PRIMITIVE FRESCO

These cottonwood sentinels beside the river

in the early March sunlight.

May their sense of being right

prevail, Persephone return (forever).

My draft of yearning whispers from

bare cave.  Slight air

of seashore lingers there,

like early dream of motherland.  Home

in a memory of pinewoods, tamarack;

Ravenna in a film

of moss-green idiom –

child-realm of Umbrian yak-yak,

Firenze burble-babble.  One gold hinge

arcs sheltering lintel

over intelligible

gate of Jubilee... & it is so arranged

we never leave the shining ring.

Like a rock of Magdala

muttering ephphatha

our bread & wine are splashed with brine,

salted with everlastingness;

my primitive fresco

roughly points to show

how everything begins to bless –

when Psyche lifts from waterfall

& Raven (with a flick

of wing) is suddenly quick

Turtledove (threshold within us all).

3.2.16