All the dry seeds go back
into the clay, like these
on their wand of wheatgrass
(like a gold cattail against a black
park bench). A nut curves over the sky
for this brown recluse (Hobo
on his own West Branch). So
a midnight Isis took her milky way –
a stone skipped into Petersburg to say
all things are equally beloved
in the chaste eye (earth-
shaked adamant Columbiad of Liberté).
The hungry crowd rages for opportune
justice – the pumpkin man
bugling Promised Land –
& like the ravenous orange trumpet-vine
we cling to dreams of Mendelssohn
& good old days... So let
the radical carrot
root deep in Galilee – a love so alien
& corny, only Beats & donkeys
out on Frisco Bay can see;
for you just as for me –
as for Akhmed, Aunt Bea & Weldon Kees,
each everyone – this equity applies.
Let go the superflux!
yawps Lear, & let the buck
stop here – behold Pacific Gates arise.