“Jules Laforgue writes to say”
Jules Laforgue writes to say you’ve died aboard ship
In the jeweled harbor of Montevideo.
Was it a dirty rifle or a broken cup
At rest upon the mirror’s face he saw?
Efflorescence not a symbol, as simple
As reindeer swimming ashore in Uruguay
On Christmas morning. All symbols perish
At Christmas, and men are mute inside the newborn
Tides. The mirrors darken. Rifles will not fire.
The baby throws his cup against the pier,
And the pier collapses. Christ is alone.
The plague ships are forbidden the harbor.
Beauty for Beauty’s sake and only later
For the sake of others, newborn for a day.
“Sparrows hopping around”
Sparrows hopping around at all angles
And one becomes a little heap of flowers
In the shadow of my tilting tree.
Chide, chide the lowest branches.
The sun steps heavily, too heavily,
And Providence, Rhode Island crackles into leaf.
You say that Shelley is dead. I agree,
Although in my sleep he ties a tricolor balloon
To a basket of small animals, up.
The sun is crippled, hence the fires.
Shelley hops away at an unusual angle.
What of the animals?
All beneath the tree in their balloon
They go underground, the envy of God.
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