from Shakespeare's Head
A snail inches through earth become clay –
twelve miles by twelve around in a circle.
And Shakespeare's Head (anonymous oracle)
still stands (on the East Side) to this day.
Blind newsboy tin of happiness!
Measured phrases squaring off those domes
boxed-in and feuding until kingdom come.
I'll hide my own head in your field grass.
Time waves the robins across the prairie.
Settle down, Eurydice, Persephone –
he won't be long. Trumped-up harmony
will bear him (bleary-eyed) from the library.
Garden behind Shakespeare's Head