A miraculous riverboat
divides the clustered flock
of walleye fish, those scaled lions
ponderously vast. Here cries
the lavender bud vying with the rose.
Here is the indentation of heel
pressed deep as the wader fades away,
baptized by dirt clouds and moss. There
is a summit here under the new June heat
undisguised where humble plums
are eaten on felled stumps and naked
bottles of second-rate wine are shared
with southern gratitude. Thumps
the shone pot drummer, hums the grass
smoker, crooners the wet-faced grinner. All
are recent neighbors lounging
in drunken shade speaking
of the bawdy congregation,
indecent brood who invites you
to come too. Reeking
of lilacs and smoked ham,
The Crest of the Thing Perpetually Gleaming
Like All Good Bones and Porcelain
The bleached moon rises
through lacerated haze,
a chaffed elbow.
Unencumbered by shoulder,
the rote bone rises.
trail the white vessel
through dark yards
of Colonial homes,
over sponge cake
a cold surface current.