Louisiana – a poem

Louisiana

 

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

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

in perfect stasis

towards see-through walls.

 

A jump from evergreen Louisiana;

leaf-spines tick the second hand.

 

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.

 

 

 

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