WESTERN STAR
Words gather round you, little tree
of Providence – little pine
of memory, blue-green
as the sea. An Itasca task for me,
to reckon the source of poetry –
freshwater Ocean State
from a spring so shy, so late!
– in the heart of Hobo’s Mississippi.
Like a calm symmetry between
twin Mirror Lakes... maize
mazes, where she stakes
me down (tied at the bow to green
apple root)... under the granite gate
at Prospect Terrace – Roger’s
benevolent dream-sponge,
soaking up querulous fear & hate
& wringing them out upon a font
of Narragansett friendship.
What cheer, Netop?
hails the raven-tested testament
of human fellowship – fond canoe
of rational amphibian,
this turtledove Leviathan
who swallows all to bear Jonah anew.
Buoyant almond of my soul... you are
that copper-penny Liberty
harboring everyone for free –
between Caesar & God, one Western Star.
9.8.17
