Saturday, January 23, 2016

The Same River

                 Black Tiles

Slotted into a wooden tray with a rim
Ero-ded
Ero-dead yet
Traceable by  thumb and index:
Clickety-clack
Don't come back.
Each ceramic wafer drops into place.
Iron wheels in the railyard six stories down
Triangulate the rhythm of the heart.

Any old iron? 
Calls the man with the cart,
Jolly with his pert Jack Russell and the
Prepossessed collie in tow, pans' din advertising 
A circus act, dance on a ball, courtly bow:
That little charmer is all-in: exposing a
Sturdy heart of self-immolating loyalty,
Monk on fire for his master.

Any old glass?
Panes worn like sandwich board
On a freckled ten year-old,
Red-headed,
Advertising buffalo meat
In North Dakota.

Vitriers!
A shout-out in the
Black-and-white street below.
On the threshhold white shadows.
Beatles progress against 
Bars of light, a 
Coin-tossing
Zebra-crossing.

Vitriers!
Windows squeak ingress
And egress, urbanity's
Congress illustrated on  
Pages dog-eared by time.
Memory's archive, humanity's

Time-release, 
Pre-set
By an absent Auteur.
Collective exhalation
Releasing the future,
Opening and closing  
Shutters.
Fresh air roiling crowded molecules:
Stupidities chased by oxygen, there

Where Orpheus reached out
To liquify with fingertips
That most opaque of boundaries,
Mirror to mercury.

Any old iron?
Don't do it Anna! 
It's over, 
Industry and the Age
Of fossil fuels,
Crushing joy
Between wheels.

Clickety-clack,
Come on back.

Black tiles painted with 
Daubs,
Glued to a frame
Carried back from France
Unbroken:
Something for the house and
Seed-packets
For the garden.

Bride or musician bereft,
Honor's theft, 
Beguilement's
Device, cut and splice
You can't cross the same threshhold twice.

Words to water,
Paste from rice.

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