Happy Feast.

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1. job says

   June 27, 2009 at 8:19 pm

   Matthew,

   And of course because foolish poets rush in where wise theologians fear to tread, I offer this meager tribute to her:

   Perpetual Distress Signal

   Stinging the sky, a beautiful beacon beckons the way
   With its splendid gravity of grace, upward, upward…
   To news, traffic and weather in segments and fragments.

   A radio tower is singing through its narrow lattice.
   Threading the first full fade of stars, dull as old hubcaps,
   Its lace of steel pulsing web-like with dew, a damp echo

   Of last night’s rain. By the clipped fingernail of sun
   Time is climbing into its fiery hours even as my car climbs
   Up out of the valley of my life, unlived and static.

   Bumper to bumper, coupled and commuting with other cars
   Climbing from their owners’ own death valleys.
   Apart from our life, we are yet clinging to a part of our life.

   A dwindled glimpse in the rearview mirror: time jogging
   Away, its twin legs pumping with shapely health, such pistons
   That carry off all my Eurydices and other contretemps.

   I wish to hear a little good news on the radio, for once;
   Does the tower stationed at the head of the valley hear
   The stars being newly captured by day’s sky-blue vessel?

   It seems to indicate a point on an infinite crown of sound,
   And behind the stars, Count Basie, and Pius XI, and Mr. Walter
   Winchell, and The Shadow and even Marconi Himself

   Back to the beginning begin to climb out of the universe,
   Playing, narrating, entertaining, inventing like eternal virgins,
   Broadcasting morning prayers to the dead air beyond,

   Believing God to be a reverse transmission of the void,
   His mother with her cloak at dawn broadcasts comfort's blue
   In days without interruption or limit, clement, loving, sweet….

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