things mur & frankinscense or sandlewood -- yes, teak, ambergris or skies of indigo blue -- I cite these gifts, caravans offered as treasure Christopher Wren putting the domes of St. Paul in place like worn spectacles over a cherubic face. The last gargoyle pops in sight near Notre Dame such cathedrals are whitened sepulchre stones in "stately pleasure domes decreed". I see the Taj Mahal where Mahatma Gandhi might have trod. The utterance of a tulip in every parable Christ talked; rosebuds gleaming milk on the breath of lilacs their shields of lilies shone where Solomon walked. Song of Songs is none other than the poet's heart, water across stones. a warm sun working double shifts as a pitchfork stacking memories on a summer's day shooing aside leaves of the Cecropia tree; old Walt resting on a bench mumbling his prayers. 52, 53 Back to the Contents Page 

 

SOUTHWARK

I noticed a bust of Shakespeare, an effigy in stone with latticing to mirror the ages. In the same cathedral a notation commented John Harvard was baptized here. Outside, rain fell on tombstones scarcely readable, their letters frail imitations of what each man considered important in life. The church itself breathed renewal. We learn John Gower, epic poet to the court of Richard II, worshipped here. I thought of translucence, then muir and gems the wise men brought the Infant Christ. Prayer candles glowed and fell into a lap of pyre. The crypt held Edmund, brother to the Bard. A handsome altar betrayed sentiments Gray used in his elegy to another courtyard. My thoughts continued onto nearby Tower Bridge, steel and energy dynamos before steps of the multitude released at five. A sign read no alcohol was to be consumed on church grounds. The very name of the place visited was poetic, half twist of muscle, more pull of silent breath. 54 Back to the Contents Page 

 

KUBLAI KHAN

The Japanese are coming! Now there's a fresh twist and just when Pearl Harbor seemed poised to become another Asiamerindian household word amid electronics, megavision and technological hoopla. Surprise. They're outslugging us. We're cannon fodder amidst cunning economic wiles. The "sneaky" Yellow Peril (updated and given a newer "slant" from that 19th century prejudicial posturing) has gone awry. No death march at Bataan. No G.I. blues. Old Cornpipes General MacArthur at ease; Inchon still years away. Where is Emperor Tojo when we need him? Who remembers the Aryans of the East? A Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere? Is SEATO 

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