


he
calls his boat —
my-righteous/beauteous-
Rose —
after me.
he sails this boat —
secure in wood —
downriver —
beyond calm water:
past-harbor-into-tumult/the-burning-
reverie . . .
a floating-stick/flame-on-water —
until — at long/last —
he
settles upon
a safe shore in comfort.
he jokingly
calls the place —
thank-god-the-land-Forget-Me-Not
— &
names his clapboard house
Celestine-the-sky/
she-who-once-was-the-sea.
Site contents: poetry & images © 2022 by Caroline Beasley-Baker.
Site Design: CBB with Wix.
No Use Without Permission.
errant/by any other in 3 colors
from {Ariadne/Dark Dark Shine}
* this is not a poem or a painting — "this is not my beautiful house" — it's a portal *
Blue Bowl and Red Roses on Patterned Cloth