Book of Art (Sestina)

Book of Art

Sweet, thick, peach necks covered in pearls
strung together by heavenly voices, "Oh Golden Gate
we beseech You to cultivate our wealth." Pouring yellow fire
into the pupils of cherubim fat
in essence, sickly, demonlike, don't speak,
but wrapping up enemies in true green envy.

Next picture: a picnic scene to envy.
Plates set on bright red tableclothes, plates pearly
white with soap. The little boy speaks
to father, "Throw the baseball past far left gate."
Cookie crumbs and bread crusts to make fat
ants, the explosive sun crisps and tones down its fire.

Coarsely rubbed purple velvet spewing oil fire.
A party has erupted in "Andromeda's Envy,"
Roman vigils of wine and fat
pigs roasted for Athena, Andromeda's wedding pearls
still in her hair-still shining with the fearful sweat of escaping Neptunes gate.
Perseus's rescue honoring Mercury to speak.

A scene in which music clangs in speech
tambourines and animal skin drums orange like fire
instruments of bone opening a gate
to the Higher Being. In spite of envy
the chieftan's daughter wears daisies precious as pearl,
and, starving, the common people stare jealously at her ripe fat flesh.

A basket of fruit glistening. Fat
red apples and grapes-wishing to be wine if only they could speak.
A single blueberry like a pearl
among stones. The flesh of oranges spicy like fire.
The banana envies
their roundness-their perfect shape-the wicker basket a gate-reinging them in.

Modern art's a mystery-a single gate
post-big monochromatic squares fat
from their experience with only one color, envious
of art that has meaning-that speaks.
Yet modern art, too, holds its fire.
Though a good rendition in as rare as an oyster pearl.

The pearly gates of artistry
wood added to the fire of wisdom, fat
indeed, speaks through the paint-"Envy me."