Wednesday, August 27, 2014

PARIS, 1999

The century turns
congealed in a sun's
cold glaze
with permafrost on walls
in the Romantic section
at the Sorbonne library
by a French lexicon
of once underground poets
Baudelaire and Rimbaud
once again mind playing
smooth jazz on my sax
in alternating rhythms
of rondeau redouble
before a baroque mirror
doubled in a rimy room
with Verlaine and Mallarme
the wind has Parisian icicles
it rains outside a cafe
we kill off warm croissants
after portmanteau newsreels
of Spanish and Jewish refugees
fleeing past the war years
resembling bridal angels
of a Chagall
in the night and fog
of our passing a church
and synagogue.




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