Skipping its T-Rex rope of entropy, inanimate
matter loops toward equilibrium. A steady date
of stasis (nether word for...). As the late
(always) poet put it : stone waits (immaculate
coagulate) like pudding for the fire.
We’ve been here before. Rahab, Ethiopia...
we were born here (among burnt rocks,
ephemera). Bring aqua firma for the hired
fellaheen! From where? From Hula Mountain
(yon Hawaii-mint island). Pacific grapefruit
gratias, fearless, unbreakable... specific
gravitas-hilaritas of All-My-Springs
(Itasca-fount). Mid-day sunshine beams
through disintegrated hexagons (April
adrift) – like mini-Hagia-Sophia dwelling-
wells, translucent hovercraft-triremes...
(fond shadow bending toward the lens).
One pink-gray eye looks up from dusty piles
of boots, at horizon’s edge : rough hobo-style
sketches her mollusk musculature (painful
conditional, vocational arc). &, groaning
so, stone leaps into groinèd arch – diamond
scrapes ice from still-born, chilly Neverland –
what was salted away, slowly waltzing, turns...
In the miracle of a lowly portal, hoary gates
are lifted eyebrows : your labyrinthine matrix
of forgotten streets melds into honeycomb-helix.
This man was born there (Golden Law Estates).