Paradise

Who knows how long I'll maunder solo, some
estranged unit beneath even these spires
that found pure partnership, natural yang quired
in the night. Flood-lit from underneath, they loom

like wed giraffes. They're leaning toward the ark
of the sea, because said silver omega's all
satori, a peace in which we bear our gentle
necks up a bit and, with a final bark,

bid bye to violence written us.
Just like Gaudi, hidden in this dank castle,
sublimated each evil urge to spines

of spires, to techne ballasting an Eve divine.
He chose to self-sequester as his last
peace, to subsist alone on tomes and lettuce.

Copyright © 2005 James Capozzi All rights reserved
from New Orleans Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission