ol' goofy Fontegaia...


A thin Calabrian hermit twines concentric Celtic rings,
rough plunkets of inverted eagle-dives, for his own
2nd-time Olympiad (calibrated to a lonesome
kingship, coming on). A grey dove, practicing

an oboe (flighty tremolo) - paired with another
prophet, somewhere (San Franfrisco?). Ramirez-
vagrant - tunneling crayon horses, chugging trains
around a rainbow-merry (can-can) Mother

(God). They're waiting for the advent of the spectrum-
sun (like Lorenzetti with his Lorelei, in the Palazzo
) - waiting for Captain ground-round Zero -
summa of the summer, light, lightly incarnate. Hum

we with them, strum we zither, cithera - for ascents
of lilac inebriations, Byzantine zones of honey'd joy.
O taste and see. Your body, one with every body -
brother to other, sister to sun (unusual cerements)...

In the gray matter, everything merges into one.
Only tremulous radiance of those triplet rings
(9-pin necklace for the Paraclete) brings
peace. An odd disease (to plumb your own

version, lambkin). O may one hungry eagle-eye
excise the frills
, he cries - O may the pluperfect
descend upon us all
- the Providence (displaced,
immense, commensurate). On the 4th of July

a grand mere milked that hippo train to Jubilee.
Eight limping belles danced limberly, a tender
trot around Big Edicule (ridiculous bender -
ridda-waltz). And we were there (in lilac-scree).

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