Ragtime

In a syntactic recess, stands
Vespered momentarily by the shadow–clock
Of my stolen equinoctial hour
Precious
Untempored by season, speed or even greed
My quest
From an Almagest


To touch the skivered spine
Of lime-washed butchered hide
Is to trowel a chard from ancient Persian mound
A wind rose
Liberated mind by ragtime rind
The bequest
From the Almagest

Far above Babel’s floor, silence
Seven climates traveled with Claudius
And the sages of Gilgamesh
Gnosis
The lapis lazuli gems of impassive Chinamen
Brief rest
From my Almagest


A Note on the Poem Ragtime:
My recent accounts of buying books in the Time Traveller's Bookshop in West Cork reminded me of this poem I wrote a few years ago to celebrate Kenny's Bookshop in Galway, a place I could linger in forever. Unfortunately the actual city centre shop closed soon after and the book selling has moved into the 'online' economy instead and from a warehouse outlet a little outside the centre. Not quite the same 'feel' to the place. (www.kennys.ie)