I ride the train to Florence from Lucca
and think of the pueblo in New Mexico
where Corn Dance Clowns shake the earth as the train clickity
clacks over the rails incantation.
Visit Dante's home on Dante Alighieri street
climb the stairs
with the few curious tourist from China
I gaze at his dagger,
his masterpiece open, lovingly placed under glass
with blue illumination.
Dante, your streets
the old winding roads of your Comedia still weep
and the swallows, as always
leave drops of blood in the sky
to fall on us like so much else.
After all these years
do you still miss the sweet charms of her soft earth?
In the morning pale sky
the church bells
awaken the dead .
Shepherd flocks graze the green hillsides
- oh,where is my name among the poets?
in these enchanted woodlands
you might think mischievous
gods still rule the world.
Years ago (1968) when Joe was living in Placitas, we had a lot of fun putting together the rather wild Oriental Blue Streak, a mimeo pub from duende . . .
|Here's Joe Bottone on the right. The late Bill Pearlman sitting in foreground.|