Friday, July 12, 2013

PUT YOUR RUBY SLIPPERS ON

                       To James Brown

 
  
An island



                        










                         always obtains in paradise,
if only that far —




 a line up ahead,















virtual as the horizon: 



                                           brilliance,


 


simmering, down on its luck;




brightening hope,



amounted to another day visible
behind: 



                       caudate like a dinghy

















or you on water skis;
this boat eventually leads home.





Every lightning bolt shall show it:
immovable amid the flux,




assured above the tide;















throughout the forest, evergreen.





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