Friday, May 6, 2016

ASK YOURSELF

Ask yourself
as you take off
with my poems
off the shelf
in the open mirror
of our exposure
when life has spun
and my sax rips
in a corridor of verse
in enfolded parenthesis
of stored up thought
in prayers of St. Francis
as witnesses to love souls
from the strife of a time
of lost and found prophecy
from Genesis to the Apocalypse
when war crimes were fought
for your promises of peace
to heal us in the breach
never overwrought by words
by "Doubting Thomas"
a sailboat of my neighbor
living in a cape by the back
as waves sound near my anchor
with a rope with knots
distraught of news on my kayak
in reaching our closure of loss
by the backs of so many sailors
during the heavy storms at sea
as Picasso's mourning doves
from wintry white covers
on once snowy birch branches
by rain drops
covering Elm and Evergreen trees
call to us over this Maypole day
as birds across the beach
will sing again on the Bay
to each soul who can hear
the showers of each spring's rain
from this hour's first daylight
are suddenly released
as my Vermont neighbor, Nicole
who speaks to me in Montreal's
delightful French-Acadian accent
invited me to a one time
Canadian poetry slam
brings over a croissant brunch
with with her home-made jam
and a bunch of crocus flowers
over to my work board bench
wants me to play a favorite riff
on my sax for her son Clifford
who labors with an infirmity
of an impediment of speech
whispers to bz
that only my warm tone
of love will reach.


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