November 15, 2008


                              Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
                              Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.
                                                            “The Idea of Order at Key West”

He does it wrong, but not as we do,
in little gaffs and fumblings, but so it stuns,

astonishes, so that the head of bungle
swallows the tail of catastrophe:

a chase as rounded as a villanelle
sucks in half of Paris

as it builds toward closure,
where it meets itself, erupting a rosette

of patrol cars, fire trucks, sopranos,
kitchen sinks, and leaving the Chief

minus another digit. Think of it:
to have a genius so magnetic. Who wouldn’t

take the lumps and contusions
to have the world always tumbling at our feet,

its darkness crystallized; who would balk
at saying “Minkey” and “Beump” if we could change

the muddle into measurements of light,
gems in a lush kaleidoscope.

—William Trowbridge
first appeared in Tar River Poetry

Posted by dwaber at November 15, 2008 01:10 PM