THE GOLD CITY

I shade my eyes
against the snow
that fell all night
in the gold city

but I will never
change or fall
or forget
my blue scow
I poked around in
in the glistening scum
of summer
                 odor
of black leaves
and croak of frog
over the green wastes
of old stillness
wherein
the distance
white scattered trees
and bitterns
stand
          pink shadows
    crushed now
under glaring
snow
          but singing
destroys me

and I glide
          by light
of the quarter moon
down the swirling
white enameled
interior
to the beat-up
blue scow
                 grounded
on black leaves
where no one
wealthy
ever goes
                      and lug
huge rocks
out of cold slime
and smash them down thru
the bottom of the blue
scow
      and break the oars

in the golden city
there is no easy way