PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[to patriciajj, IL MIGLIO FABBRO]

This is the kind of poem I would have read
over the c.b. radio
in December of nineteen seventy-six

and I offer this preface
to honor you, and your poems

despite the possibility of static

from coronal mass ejections
(we, and they, know who they are).

Your poems are like the women
that visited the library at my college,

and gathered in that seeming penetralia
(sheltered beneath the huge, soaring chapel)
were the books of poetry,
and of astronomy and cosmology, were kept.

If they had happened to wear shoes

for the short walk over from their dormitories,
their eagerness to slip out of those

confining shoes

was obviously apparent

as they glided across the floor

with elegant poise and alacrity

in their footsteps---bare or sheathed
in the softness of fashionably teasing socks.

Whispered conversations, or coyly quiet giggles,

brought new and refreshed vitality
to the books they had chosen for study,
to the dead poets among whom, as living poems, they moved;

and to the very structure itself,

so that the whole place

became a sacred shrine to the

presence, meaning, and ministration

of cosmic beauty that they embodied,

giving final accomplishment and validation

to the very stars.

Your poems are like that, Patricia.

Starward

[*/+/^]