Louisiana – a poem



Rush with me down —

There’s a cold marble swell

As the forest licks your feet.


Green glass-wood water

Edges around white walls

Of artistic interruptions.


Picasso Before Picasso,

Us — on Poul Gernes’ prism

Up on the lawn,

The pier’s people paddle —

Before Me and You.


Pond skaters settle on tension;

Tight, taut

Spring of a diving board

Half-out the window.


Plaster walls twine in-out of branches,

Under soft, stage-lit skylights

Spindly men stride towards see-through walls

In perfect stasis.


Ah, but we reached them.


A jump from evergreen Louisiana,

Leaf-spines tick the second hand.


The pyramid’s dismantled,

Violent in Autumn

The exhibition is over; it ran its course.


A patch of brown rot

Dead and free,

Gasps with so much light.

The lawn is solely green once more,


I wore blue silk to Elsinore.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s