And one remembers poets with poems. So, Remembered Columns, about those things whose meaning doesn’t change too much across years, beliefs, circumstances, places…
The solid letters of the world grew airy.
The marble serifs, the clearly blocked uprights
Built upon rocks and set upon the heights
Rose like remembered columns in a story
About the Virgins house that rose and flew
And landed on the hilltop at Loreto.
I lift my eyes in a light-headed credo,
Discovering what survives translation true.