King in Disguise

Ancient Light, cont.  Another meditation on Royalty.  The King in Disguise as Homeless Man from Ireland.  With a side glance toward a majestic building in Providence.  Just about around the corner from the Ladd Observatory (keep your eyes on Orion).

(I was a busker briefly in London back in 1975, playing con geat in the Tube while I awaited my chance to interview with the Stones.)

from Ancient Light

       5

       

       He lay in the tube tunnel just off Hyde Park, 

       not far from Mayfair, the American Embassy. 

       Under a pyramid of cardboard was he,

       his Irish accent – Belfast maybe? – larking

       

       everything abowt Lundun. Face invisible, 

       only his arm waved – giving directions 

       to a tribe of booty'd Scandinavians. 

       Your king in disguise – a buskin' Sybil.

       

       Back in the hometown, down Morris Avenue, 

       above the serene and perfect golden sphere

       of Temple Emmanuel, echoed in the atmosphere,

       the planets – lined up for an evening view,

       

       one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. . .

       I could see them, bright against the azure; 

       a heavenly anomaly, that would endure 

       no more than a dusk or two. Orion,

       

       keep your eye on those British loins; 

       even the King of Cats is still a Pushkin, 

       ready to vaporize in the wink of a sun. 

       London's eccentric orbit's like a loon's –

       

       now you here, him echo over there;

       her echo.  And if you bend over too fast,

       like Raleigh over a puddle, you won't last; 

       you'll get distortions coming up for air,

       

       like the groan of that doubledeckering by, 

       overloaded with oversize Van der Weyden portraits 

       – I mean average overage Renaissance pates –

       (each one different) under the Flemish snowsky.

       

       You want to look at yourself in the mirror

       again, Henry? Before you step outside

       and lose yourself in a Bruegel snowslide –

       where bent kids are chalking the proverbial Bronx cheer. . .

Temple Emanu-El, Providence

Ladd Observatory