flooding on the atchafalaya river banks.
sasparilla, wild wisteria;
rangoon’s creeper & devil’s trumpet.
puncture the surface of the new bayou.
who’s to say where a new bayou comes from
where it goes
probably some old voodoo
back again. saint-saens wrote a new swan.
who’s to say where- - -
sunflash like a knife
the new bayou a slate-grey sheet
made suddenly transparent
silverfish. fruit of the delta
swirl & eddy; sublime mandala
of the gathering storm
fading to their depths.
kingfisher clutches a low-hanging branch.
cattails are a sun-kissed hunter’s blind
but the needle-nose bayonet is sheathed.
kingfisher’s head is heavy.
gravity is insurmountable;
too hungry to hunt
makes the gravity
of tomorrow’s hunt even greater
to become absorbed
in the Sistine ceiling
is trust that in looking,
in entering the painting-
God’s hand will become warm;
reach out for your’s.
have faith in this blue.
tomorrow’s haikus hang,
opulent in the sapphire.
just pick them up like Atalanta’s gold apples
don’t slow down
kingfisher never knows
the taste of tomorrow’s fish
the glory of the kingfisher is absolute power submitting absolutely
to the humiliation of the sea.
hover in silence-
a flurry of silver scales
renders him momentarily blind.
his heart wavers;
his eyes blaze to life again-
timid, like cirrus clouds.
iridescent flume in motion.
plunging into the blue like shatter-glass.
a slick of oil coats his feathers
but the taste of the feast is on his tongue.
he darts toward a silver flash;
spears the central artery.
fish heart dripping in his jaws,
he whirls upward toward the sun.
the blue is vast
& silken like melatonin
or the hudson river school
bloom & collapse
in waltz time
ballgowns that shudder
& whirl at the slightest
invocation of breeze
kingfisher’s heart becomes tall & pure
carved by a spinning blade of wind
as the Himalayas melt; patiently.
spire in the fume of sighs.
the bayou is a translcent scene,
backlit; given material weight
as the circling film reel is brought to life
by the projection bulb.
let your consciousness amble
through the scroll of the delta;
like calligraphy, daytime
apparates & fades
cypresses are an underpainting
of payne’s grey at dawn,
glazed in viridian by golden hour.
a swallow’s nest grows bright with charisma then hollow.
the bayou is a colorless form, draped
in so many moulting skins of light.
kingfisher acknowledges gently the sun diving
through horizon after horizon.
pressing gently through the aether
toward no soteriological end