it's only gravity

SEA-SALTS

… an astronomer consulting the stars to-day would announce

                    that the most favourable day of the year for weighing light is May 29.

                                       – Arthur Eddington, Space, Time and Gravitation

The brightness of the light shines more or less

in various fields of stars.

The Hyades, for instance, are

magnificent – rays bend around the sun’s eclipse

according to their gravity (1132?)

& their displacements make

a parallax, will shake

the skies – like that black hole in Virgo

where the whole cosmos in its photon rings

as in a coelostat on El Principe

looks back from a funhouse mirror

mired in the cryptic gloom one Friday brings

(in April, in RI).  So when Prince Hobo Hal

sets out upon the Ocean stream

paddling his gyroscope-trireme

his dim reflections shade his violet pal

Jean-Jo, behind their glare.  It’s only gravity.

They glide along past green Cahoki-o

beneath a soaring Gateway prow

toward topaz Gulf (ineffable Mardi Gras)

where Jean-Jo’s mild humility

(like unknown soldier or

grey pebble on the shore)

emerges – lightweight solidarity –

& swathes him in a dove-grey cloud

of granite apses, limestone

spires… an airy congregation

of sea-salts (& makes his father proud).

4.7.20

How to be God's friend?

JUST BEYOND

The lifesaver : a fruity ring

invented by Hart Crane’s

father.  Across the plains

yawing wind-wagons roll.  Something

akin to Grant Wood corn, maybe –

an icon.  All’s figures,

counsels holy Zero

Summer.... Burchfield parody

(complete with feverish Light-

in-Gale).  Deep swampland

heartland, over sand-

fly latitudes.  God’s outa sight;

Dad’s a kind of Kingfish, generous

in all the wrong ways.

Those were the dog days.

Rain... unlikely hymn (so mysterious) –

another author, just beyond the pale.

Moses climbs from his dinghy

ready to shake that thingy –

waterspew from Rock (a Word, set sail).

How to be God’s friend? ask

the Friends.  Williams hectored,

but he left on record

how to walk humbly (high shellfish task)...

Friends gathered in a Rhody cave.

Silence is best response

to Charlie’s dalliance.

Our Author is a friendship trope – to save,

not to condemn.

5.8.18

all glory, laud & honor

PUDGY PALM

The homeless Mandelshtams – Nadezhda,

Osip – shelter in the Hermitage

beneath a Rembrandt image.

Theotokos with Child – da, da –

the yellow-black goldfinch, perched

upon his pudgy palm.

Invisible museum

in the mind.  Like Hagia Sophia (arched

Argo of a million eyes) whorled

in one prow... her kelson

Love’s bright apparition –

equilibrium of peaceful world.

All glory, laud & honor...

the sensus comunis

of common good is

at your service (humble, poor) –

Franciscan mule of stubborn heart

whose fast is doing

(in twilight fast fading) –

out to the glimmer-rim of art

back to the ember-glowing hearth.

The honor of the civitas

so shaped by selflessness

into a form of equity – in truth

& mirth, transparency... your wings

in flight, O Tyche-Liberty –

humble Columbia (Black Sea

to Golden Gate) Nadezhda brings.

4.30.18

he talked in sign lingo

COPPER BEECH

Late crickets from low crevices

scree high morse code

along the River Road,

mourning what vanishes.

The trestle bridge shoulders its iron

rust refrain.  Hobo,

Henry rehearse their slow

converse – where’s Bunny Rabbi gone?

He talked in sign lingo, for fun;

smoke signals over Pipestone

bearded the Old Gray One

whose windy glance was made of sun.

The bards were babbling nonsense

around the Ink Palace...

forgive their lack of grace

whose pride is their inheritance.

Meekness is the key to peace,

a mule named Franky said;

our mutual Day of the Dead

fringes each cot with golden fleece;

both enterprise & government

rest on bone shoulders

of the poor – our diverse

attitudes were never meant

to drive us to unpeel the Union.

Pensive eyes discern

gray beech limb’s copper urn

of reconcilement (smiling veteran).

11.8.16