Poem to South America
This poem was dreamed:
It came out on the typesetter
In the shape of the Americas
The Isthmus Cape Canal could be
Clearly seen...
We dream the world through books
And the world is only our word
As La Panama said: "I am the canal"
[one channel mouth to maw]
Then, there is the unseen...
Gabriela Mistral the woman in her ribcage
Acknowledging tribute from her passing carriage
Borges tap-tapping through Buenos Aires
Really only saying hello to Bewoulf
Guillen giving back the rose in age he plucked in youth
[So the world is reduced to dream...]
The Lion paces his zoo-cage
And lies down in the moonlight
His claws retracted: contemplates paws
Innocent of the murdered's scream....
[Fitfully from a false start we jolt out.]
Facing world's violence, the only gift: to sleep together
The animal in us is innocent
Jungle liana jaguar lizard or chameleon
And with death a trap is sprung
With out poets we say: Death is the dream
Life is waking up
And at the moment the world is a Word
Iconed pure readable
Word for word.
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