# 24

By Anselm Parlatore

                                    It might be easier

                                    To fail-with Land in Sight-

                                   Than gain-my Blue Peninsula-

                                   To perish-of Delight-

                                                     Emily Dickinson

 

1.

Fossilized, the ancient sandy ripples

sashaying in wind & tide, touching bottom,

a refined, elegant oracular gravitas,

an aura of sumptuous sanctity

 

their rhapsodic enchantment in a sea-swell

voluptuous & fragrant & iridescent,

diaphanes through their molting portals

inscriptions of the desire, rapture, the loss.

 

2.

& fogbound the obliquely angled memories

spectral persistence of the dead

incessantly calling out plaintively, the shades’

endlessly murmuring, voices casting

 

their shadows, whiteness invading language

the luffing of unfurled sails in time’s

foamy hollow, an old & profound suffering,

a final cresting of the waves tinging moonlight.

 

 

——————–

These poems from a sequence entitled “The Kingston Abstracts”


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