The dark green of the pines rhymes with the lime-
green of the avocado-canoe (its light lizard-
skin like birch-bark). In the snowbound woods
the axe splits the trunk down to the time-
warp of the tree-rings (a white hare, meanwhile
oars away on snowshoes, silently). It's winter
in the Poem Mountains (the frozen center
of the Yule log). Everything is kept on file
by guardians of the posthumous world;
the angels of accountable increase,
decrease (deceased) maintain their lease
on life at the expense of life, O Herald...
and the fate of the dispossessed ne'er-do-well
depends on an infinitesimally-narrow hair
(a wonder she was even ever there).
In the well of summer prairie grass... (cicada-shell).
A long time ago, when the trim eye of the Argo
leapt from wave to wave like a glancing sun.
Burning, buoyant, imperturbable. Urn
of Phoenician fire, Minoan river-flow...
where the last arctic emblem (figure
of a diving man) solidified, coagulate
around the limestone-ivory silicate
(stalactites) of the collegiate epicure-
pariah. So many shadows round about you
tend... pull down those Venetian blinds now
(eyelids of your pearly casket, Imago).
Shades of Tahitian greenery (cloudy sky-blue).