Billions of years from now, melted down
in the furnace of Milkomeda (black hole
of calculations)... death without parole.
Everything changed. Planets unknown.
Here Maddy became her meditation.
In a place of desolate vines.
By a barren cave. Mind's
sixth sense took over. 33
years ('tween cryptic epiphany,
spooky return). Old prophecies,
lightwit beehive wheels... wheee...
PT-109 nine times around Mt. Helicon!
A trim, grayish cicada boat, immersed
in mist... O breadbasket of Melchizedek!
Weird Circe's chalice! Almond-eyelid-sun!
Only 32, mon eleve. Not much time
to figure out universe as continuum.
Arms' bending willow branches form
primordial, frigid arch... a sturdy rim
of rhyme, a hula-hoop, a hand-sprung
loop-de-loop. Poco al poco (haunt us).
For the hand that wheels the wheels
within wheels whizzes unseen, unsung...
lifting the weight of serpentine copper
across green moss of Moses-magma,
charted long ago through fiery tetra-
grammatone to faery stream-stopper.
Fontegaia meanders along.
~~~~ 10:41 PM