Bubbles confabulated,
Aquamarine rosary beads,
Steel-blue beams.
Americana scarecrow,
Cherry-red combine.
Lost Highway,
A road to the car dealership,
Back on the interstate.
Campanile, Brookings.
Brick courthouse, marriage license.
Curvy fairytales,
Gluten-free supper,
Phillips Diner.
Sioux Falls railroads,
Sewage floating in the river,
All in view—
On the Cliff Avenue hill,
Of the obsolete penitentiary.
Converged coalescence—
South Dakota State women win March Madness,
A retired federal chief district lesbian judge,
Her hands clapping in the stands of the Premier Center.
We drive breakneck over hot roads.
Churches, big as cathedrals, rocket
from pocket villages.
Castillo's cast their campanile on the baking earth.
The Great Mosque of Cordoba,
the green Alhambra shades us
through a preaching dust.
The Giralda; its Christianized minaret
stretched like a tourists neck,
and above the Papal parapets,
a banished Allah.
The holy places have hollow guts,
their tubes are wrapped
around a torso, like alien spaceships.
One edifice dwarfs another
until awe sinks to its knees
attired in the black mufti
of old peasant women.
We are traveling fast now.
Nave and transept are our crossroads.
Basilica and sacellum our roadside naps.
The car parallel parks itself
beside every altar and shrine,
it's engine running,
as we chase God's works down,
ticking off only ourselves.
the light breeze
cooled the morning sun
daytrip Venice
had begun
vantage views
from a vaporetto
inch-by-inch
the skyline began to grow
St Marks cameinto view
etched on a sky so blue
tourist scrambled
from the boat
sensory feelings inside emote
ambling along piazzas wide
campanile renaissance
a city's pride
byzantine palaces bridge of sighs
facias painted
in pastel dyes
gothic churches candles ablaze
carvings to draw the gaze
depicted ceilings vivant tableau
golden bedecked reredos
pizza italiano barolo red wine
relax chat then dine
'neath parasoled
courtyard shade
as gondaliers anchor
to quayside arcade
homward along canal grande
below balconies
overhanging sun-tanned
houses emulsioned terracotta bold
kaleidoscopic memories
made manifold
Giolto de Boudone
helped to make Florence well known
Art was not his only style
for he designed the Campanile
Palazzo Strozzi near the Duomo is empty now,
The tourists having sought more grand amusements;
Perpetual restlessness the most common souvenir
They’ll be bringing home from vacation.
Giotto’s Campanile seemed manly from the outside,
Its shoulders squared against the distant mountains,
But its winding stairs betrayed an inner sadness,
That worried my intent to see the skyline.
The streets of Florence fairly simmer in the sunset.
I crossed the Ponte Vecchio to get across the Arno.
Three happy Italians splashing barefoot in the fountain
Remind me I’m a long, long way from home.
the light breeze
cooled the morning sun
daytrip Venice
had begun
vantage views
from a vaporetto
inch-by-inch
the skyline began to grow
St Marks cameinto view
etched on a sky so blue
tourist scrambled
from the boat
sensory feelings inside emote
ambling along piazzas wide
campanile renaissance
a city's pride
byzantine palaces bridge of sighs
facias painted
in pastel dyes
gothic churches candles ablaze
carvings to draw the gaze
depicted ceilings vivant tableau
golden bedecked reredos
pizza italiano barolo red wine
relax chat then dine
'neath parasoled
courtyard shade
as gondaliers anchor
to quayside arcade
homward along canal grande
below balconies
overhanging sun-tanned
houses emulsioned terracotta bold
kaleidoscopic memories
made manifold
sun on the hill a hayfield
on an uncle’s farm
my childhood, captured gold
reflections on a placid lake
trees and greenery rise
ripple a silver face
later a song in the air
the summer of love
sgt pepper, a new refrain
an old brick hall
north of central campus
where as a student I find my life
the campanile late at night stilled
oversees a place where paths cross
young lovers find their dreams
a winding road in the countryside
a side trip to nowhere
solitude where time unwinds
in depths of a forest I find myself
a rustling of leaves
nature speaks to me
a hummingbird at arm’s length
we gaze at each other
until the wind takes it away
a fellow writer and I at her farm
in company of horses she keeps
life shared in poetry and verse
lyrics of a love song shared
a waitress refills my drink
in reflections
of other times and places
We drive breakneck over hot roads.
Churches, big as cathedrals, rocket
from pocket villages.
Castillo's cast their campanile on the baking earth.
The Great Mosque of Cordoba,
the green Alhambra shades us
through a preaching dust.
The Giralda; its Christianized minaret
stretched like a tourists neck,
and above the Papal parapets,
a banished Allah.
The holy places have hollow guts,
their tubes are wrapped
around a torso, like alien spaceships.
One edifice dwarfs another
until awe sinks to its knees
attired in the black mufti
of old peasant women.
We are traveling fast now.
Nave and transept are our crossroads.
Basilica and sacellum our roadside naps.
The car parallel parks itself
beside every altar and shrine,
it's engine running
as we chase God's works down,
ticking off not only Him
but ourselves.
TCD GRADUATION
Cobblestone, campanile,
Mortar boards, smiles, laughter,
Library, pigeon, tassel,
Friends, classmates, tea after.
.........................................................................
Note:
TCD = Trinity College Dublin, Ireland
I can see it shining so brightly
So white against the Venetian skies
From which a last view is seen by some
As they kiss freedom goodbye
Just like my heart wavering on the brink
of happiness, pondering the yes and knows
The yes of wanting to float and not sink
The no of letting freedom go
It is nearly sunset the bells sound out as
the boatmen sing their songs
The sun is rapidly disappearing
they kiss and know they belong
Tradition is that a kiss at sunset
Just as the sun goes down
Brings untold happiness
From that moment on
A local legend says that lovers will be granted eternal love and bliss if they kiss on a gondola at sunset under the Bridge of Sighs as the bells of St Mark's Campanile toll.[
My feet enfold something here
Under these deep green trees
Rooted fast in sand
I make strides about the campanile
My heart still beating like a tribute
To your beautiful face
And I still try to find you
Somewhere in this place
Where you were given light
Where you hold your head with pride
In the arms of a single star
searing into my hungry heart
How I want you to see it with me…
I am sold to your mouth
And the music it makes,
Like all the steady reggeaton
Rolling off into the air
Much like the trucks that carry it
And the golden hands directing it
Sinking with it in the distance
I love you a million times
Whether love is necessary
I was still born a Florida girl
I know I want to be here
I know you
And all the passion you have for home
Where I want to be
Whether by your lips or feet
I feel alive
Deep green trees carry me
This white sand, rich blue sea
I’m in love- and I can’t speak
But I feel so alive.
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