The Curvature
In sight, like heron or egret, curvature
In sight, like heron or egret, curvature
Accords to the white spec heated mist, portrays
A thespian beauty, a miracle of play.
Of this mist, outward sign of a literature
Of tears, it went when Gloria moved, for awhile
Among straightened woman-rule, nature
A hot sun cambered by Earth night, women in, reconciled.
She sifted tone, gesture, line for theatre fragile,
Hers the ocean-great restraint,
Hers aesthetic, thermonic, quaint,
Then vertigo performing passionate rules untold,
Herself without forewarn. For woman, interior volt
Out late, the wintry toll, the fate
Of beauty, of obsidian. God, a warmed snowflake.
*Thermonic- electrical heat from within moving to the outer; electrical emission
No Poem to Startle
When night turns, rolls on its side to sleep
inside the restless inquietude, Rosanna
returns to its room to restore peace;
when the corona of stars combs
dark poems the peat moss wrote
in empty space, Rosanna carries
strands of its untangled thought
to push beneath blue phlox line rarity.
Born between moss and sun love lives
as much for her as for any morning spring
quickly the healing and too soon its retreat—
ready after lengths of courage waive
she reads but not to us, like a lightening
hidden, no poem to startle the nut-wheat.
In memorium for Rosanna Linda
Caladonia, California, Age 28
JGarciaV
in Rain Country
Into the root, Eternal Rain—
into the modern, Astral Muse
for ordered sounds of astonished dew.
Something the sparrow sings
turns sooth chartreuse in spring—
colors of eight throngs conferring
in consonantal diamond design.
Cadence lilts excuse to met for time
the love poet song to trellised vine
set by master poet Philippīne.
Songs of wounds and porcupines, revise!
Salve of assonance omitted, apply!
For essence, vie with agon’s effervescence!
Overwrite sound studded flattened thud.
Omit lingerie if our tomorrows quit
José, impassioned, avé enharmonic, drenched.
No Poem to Startle
When night turns, rolls on its side to sleep
inside the restless inquietude, Rosanna
returns to its room to restore peace;
when the corona of stars combs
dark poems the peat moss wrote
in empty space, Rosanna carries
strands of its untangled thought
to push beneath blue phlox line rarity.
Born between moss and sun love lives
as much for her as for any morning spring
quickly the healing and too soon its retreat—
ready after lengths of courage waive
she reads but not to us, like a lightening
hidden, no poem to startle the nut-wheat.
In memorium for Rosanna Linda
Caladonia, California, Age 28
JGarciaV
in Rain Country
Into the root, Eternal Rain—
into the modern, Astral Muse
for ordered sounds of astonished dew.
Something the sparrow sings
turns sooth chartreuse in spring—
colors of eight throngs conferring
in consonantal diamond design.
Cadence lilts excuse to met for time
the love poet song to trellised vine
set by master poet Philippīne.
Songs of wounds and porcupines, revise!
Salve of assonance omitted, apply!
For essence, vie with agon’s effervescence!
Overwrite sound studded flattened thud.
Omit lingerie if our tomorrows quit
José, impassioned, avé enharmonic, drenched.
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