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Wintertime, Huru’s ship

 

As time draws on

more buildings block

my sweeping panorama

of swaths of grey, green, blue -

Squared stamps of their indifference

to other’s views.

 

On moors I pass

by way of blended paths

Evolved by nature’s needs

Unmarked by common tread.

 

Keeping weary watch

for new protrusions

of mans delusions,

on distant horizon line.

A  shrinking rim -

hemming in my island watch.

 

‘Til one day, my disbelieving eye

spied a turning tide -

A sculpture had arrived.

 

Stark stab of hope

that island folk

both young and old

throwing off the yoke

of conforming tastes

would reach to grasp

straight from the heart

What great art is -

Entwined in nature bare.

 

A modern man, not of the sea

but squatted on hill brow

had docked ‘longside

his stoned reside -

A man’s endeavor

Twice house’s height

A steeled Hurrah

 

Long spiking girders

Orange painted bright -

blending effortlessly, smoothly

with treed and twigged terrain.

 

To some obscene

To me shocking right -

Hanging ramrod straight

Curved by surrounding nature’s

lined up hills, shapes of trees

and blending man-made dreams.

 

Such monumental might

lightly caught my eye

as I tacked by.

 

No jarring halt,

just thoughts run wild -

Di Suvero’s Hurus foraging,

surveying all at steady pace - 

Steely eyed Samurais.

 

Their whales interned with island bones

Reminding all, what we create

weighs heavily on island’s constant being.

 

Scenes twist and churn and leap about -

chased generations back,

to visualize returned  whalers

spouting tales of sights unseen.

 

Stretching to unfurl

tradition bound minds -

of common acceptability.

So they would shake and quake

‘til barriers fell

and broader views prevailed.

 

Today, this work of one -

anchored but not aground.

Towering above rooftops -

adrift in air.

 

Not a whaling ship

No blubber shown

No function to its parts

 

But as a carcass whole

A beacon to those

plunging the depths

of mankind’s netted thoughts.

 

So pause one’s oars

Check one’s course

Nature sets the space -

The Lady breathes again.

 

 

This Poem was originally Published in The Inquirer & Mirror (Nantucket)

 

 

 

 

Mark di Suvero - Wintertime

(Richard & Ronay Menschel Collection)

 

 

 

Huru

 

About Mark di Suvero's HURU

 

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