New-Montage Homage, Dear Reader
by D.R. James

These leafy trees are cool
like a vestibule. I lounge
in a shadowed chaise
wanting nothing more
from this crowding green
grace but that it survive
for sure. And above me,
tremblingly, it flickers.
Not like by moves
that click these keys: it
has no motive! I myself
revere everything
over the forest floor
forever regaled as
its collage sprawls
farther and farthest.
I dream-and-dance
and love the air.
Are these the airs
that now and later
recur? Yes, songs
that boldly last!
My ears can’t fine-tune
such lush strains. They
are gushed ardor rushing
from the whole shebang.



 

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