Rancor On the Veranda

I see nothing but pink plume and ink In the lofty canopy above The roof is raised with mist And rust in my eyes and the old wreck of souls Shouting Jazz melodies like tricks The way this porch was raised by Summer Sweat-Backs Anticipating the eager tide Of the long lost labour of Coast Mainline Harbour poles Broken Nets untied and umkempt My Masterpiece belongs at Sea A Ship sent to Eternity "The Constant Work of Man" Sorrowed to Travail Being fished by the Whale With Jonah's reticence I bemoan Nineveh's wailing tides And grow with the Sand Dali came to me once in the repose of Dream With unexpected charm Amidst reliquary code: Growing up and away the hoop The tree anchored to my soul Had Been Lifted