By Brooklyn Bridge
The diametric gaze of love
and of lovers’ unstinting eyes
so that vision becomes a bridge
Hart Crane carrying his perceptions
in his pocket : poetry is span and projection
It moves on bold heels knowing that
nothing is new under the sun and yet
no two skies are ever the same
a lighter shade of blue or grey or a paler dark
Science has its sesames poetry too
but poetry has mutinous song that fires
on all cylinders that breaks in waves
at the base of the towering chalk cliffs
Mountain laurels and Easters of speeding light
the span of consciousness within an earth
drained of its tears Poetry demands an end
to the fraternal massacre to the slaughter
of lilies and the perversity of human disdain
The sound-waves launched from her lips
buttressed across the crisp morning air
slipped through the coruscation of the outer ear
penetrated and curled around the spiral cavity
of the cochlea and cosily implanted themselves
in the depths of his mind and his heart
Poetry is pact is the bread of angels
is love’s purest breath when it so wills to be
John Lyons