Sure, there is a hierarchy of worlds here, one place is above or below another. Cap Roux is up the coast beyond, say, Beaulieu and below Eze. Angels with dog-faces float in chariots, spinning through clouds on golden wheels. You're not likely to find the divine world up there. Those carriages are on their way to that place where earth meets the world of action. I cannot consult Ezekiel. I'm confined to the speedway along the blue coast. Even if Jacob's ladder is dropped it will not work. I am mineral, molecular. Cells. Though I try I excel at none of those systems. So read Rimbaud to me. Decorate my house with Baudelaire's dead flowers. Roll me in the sand at Monte Carlo. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THOMAS MOORE (1) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A CHRISTMAS FOLKSONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE LITANY [TO THE HOLY SPIRIT] by ROBERT HERRICK CURFEW by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS by ALFRED TENNYSON ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 16. TO CALEB HARDINGE, M.D. by MARK AKENSIDE |