from The Lion King
I.
Circles turn to an
African sunrise
antelope leopards
an elephant calf
grasps its mother’s tail
II.
I have my foibles
my share of petty
insecurities
but at least I’m not
unspeakably vain
III.
What better gift can
two friends give you than
a taste for grub and
no worries for your
adolescent days
IV.
A pride stands before
the high rock of their
hereditary
monarchy to see
how the king has grown
Before the flower comes the blooming white
and startling of dear intention that
the spring not get too far along before
its winter–educated bud can mask
the sun with its own kind of promised light
A misplaced step and I am face to face
again with Greece. The Areopagus,
the Byzantine mosaic floor that looked
for all the centuries like this one save
the dust, which hasn’t been swept up
in here for years. The same meticulous
thin lines of grout we found in situ there
set off the tiles in this stairwell where
I’ve fallen to the examination of
their small square–cut details. To us
the discovery was everything. Forget
how many just the same had been unearthed,
how unremarkable our find: we were
in Athens, walking ancient places, and
were tripping over wonders.
The resurrection has been done to death
A stone rolled clear of every rock–cut tomb
Each uncurled lily petal spread like fresh
White springtime snow & yet that I presume
On this or any other day to step
Beyond the threshold of my one–bedroom
Apartment without trembling suggests
An insufficient apprehension of
The stakes involved in such a passionate
Self–sacrificing unrelenting love
poem
after Antonin Dvořák
& William Carlos Williams
I.
The composition cries
for recognition as
sonatas do: the brash
familiarity
of this short coda is
exuberance in face
of all development
made noise: it’s true of course
that reacquaintance with
old friends will be enough
to wring G major chords
from nearly anyone
4 April 2023
II.
If it’s a thunderstorm
I hear approaching it’s
melodious as storms go
not unaware of its
transcription not inclined
to violence or else
magnanimous: these sheets
of falling notes are blown
about for you and no
one else it says but calls
of trumpets summon me
now I must go elsewhere
2 April 2023
III.
The shortest movement and
the most like looking through
a windowpane: for in
their workday clothes it does
seem awfully like two themes
were interrupted from
idyllic lives and told
despite the failure of
their crops by fire flood
what have you even still
that they should dance which they
were doing anyway
3 April 2023
IV.
How many ways exist
for one composer born
to natural love of his
old homeland and the lilt
of its particular
and rhythmic idiom
to give his heartfelt thanks
to the Bohemian
Academy for the
Encouragement of Arts
and Literature on his
election to their ranks
Eagles sweep agross the white
cirrus–shaded afternoon
one by one alighting on
riverfloes beneath the arced
bridges of the avenues
keening in their descent