Wayne-Daniel Berard

 

Shekinah at Narragansett Beach

"I love the sun,"
She says.
"You're not alone,"
my smile
overarching
the crowds.
She props
Herself on one
elbow  (the
hydraulics
of dawn)
turns to
me  "How
far away
would it
need to
be for
people to
look at it,
you think?"
automatically
I twist
then repulsed
by a mere
inch of
brightness
"I don't know,"
I say, "a million
miles a million
million light
years?"  now
her buddhess
smile unblinds
me "That's why
they're distant"
She whispers,
(surf, heard
over, despite
everything,)
they love
you but can't
hold only
behold from
their distance.
"Oh,"
I said not
for the
knowledge
but for Her
stellar eyes
now so
close
"You're
not alone,"
they promised.

 

Sea Flowers


everybody's
terrified at
lowering tide
  don't let them
  tell you otherwise
at what the
great withdrawing
might expose
    but don't you
leave that spot
force yourself
salt spray and
all to stay open-
eyed right there
      and look
the sea flowers
are crocusing their
phosphorescent tips
above the melting
waves and praying "Light?
Light! My God it's true!"
and nothing's ad hoc
not oh who cares
but an Atlantean
lay out of deep
blossoms unseas
  itself before you
grids of Poseidonae
Streets crossing Limu Moui
Avenues, Golden
Clubs wait to admit
you and Water Canna
turn to wine just
because you're
thirsty
    a newborn urbanity
encounters air
and gasps "how
can anything
so alive be so
unresistant?"
  your pen
  floats
effortlessly
tracing new
maps (yours)
naming new
flowers
(you)

chagall

the day
is
daying
the drive
is steering
accelerating
decelerating
stopping
my classes
are classing
what do I need
to do   put
another way
imagine chagall,
you and I  his
floating subjects
but toward some
blue-green towarding
      life is
      chagalling.