LaFarge & Berkeley : Paradise Alley

... & then inevitable as autumn comes the earthbound coda for both dreamer-visionaries (John LaFarge, George Berkeley).

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In Paradise Valley, the two legs of the ridge 

stretch toward the bay – and then the bay widens

in a V (of blues, pinks, grays) to the horizon, 

and the open sea. Perihelion for LaFarge

to the very edge – the brilliant window – of his art: 

light surging through stained panes:

Church of the Ascension. Then he declines.

On earth, not Paradise.  And the hurt

remains.  Irascible, he painted out his wife 

with a second coat of mistresses.

A mind so subtle, restless,

shipwrecked in Butler Sanitarium.  Grief

at the end (after such glory).

The faint wash of surf, the distant 

rose of New Orleans Mardi Gras lent 

sad wedding music.  Newport memory.

Earth calls its own with stony wisdom.

Berkeley stalled – but truth was undeniable. 

Sailed home at last.  Bequeathed the lowly stubble 

of the search to Harvard, Yale (the kingdom

of his books).  His green-eyed vision

of a stubborn Oxford, or Bermuda Trinity 

came true somehow – so scholarly

these artless rude colonials! – legion

with universities!  And in the silence

of the library, some fresh intrepid Blackstone 

sniffs out the mazy law – no stone unturned, 

she formulates a bluenosed jurisprudence.

Gate to Butler Sanitarium, Providence

Paradise Valley