heart-o-pine, part two
The beginning is all I go to the springs for
The thou and thee like I’m awake
But spice-blown brows like mine
Know’st knots no sailor ever
Knew for the knotty Greeks roaming
Forgetting, rocking me, oh me
Watching history howl with no exit
Cloven dry the whiles & feral dogs do scratch
& I pine which reminds me of a wily sprite
Born in a pine, heart of the wood, heartpine
That’s what you want your floors made of
What you can walk on for centuries
& be remembered on the beach at Sampiere
Where stuck in the corner, her gold-plated
Measuring beeltes where toads questioned
Yes I was there the whiles it took
At the beginning when time was not yet space
Years yoked where beings several & divine
Dither’d as cannibals eating words that
Power enlightenment rescued rich & happily
.
Assemblage by Santos-Dumont
Poem © R Young
studio arago 