& so concludes Fontegaia pt. 4. (p.s. today is the anniversary of the founding of Constantinople)


Grandma went down to St. Croix on your birthday,
Phoebe, to visit a nest of potters along the river.
Spry Frisbee-soothsayer keeps on revolving forever,
almost - like a venerable Pythia-barge (109 light-years

away, it seems). Your Little Boy Bohu-Pa (some
China clay?) peers out again (through his mosquito-
net) toward a winking, twinkling Ocean shore -
the river-of-riverbanks, a moving firmament

(tesseract dome or drinking bowl). Where
elk-sized almond eyes (through arctic space)
lock into mutual recognition - natural grace
domesticating something else. Grain of sand (or

key of clay) from nowhere. Something immeasurable
nestled in the river-rings - purled mote of fire
in parallax. Becomes an equal sign (9 = gyre)
whose Magdalenian eyes dove into mine. Voluble

pebble on ramble up Nile - light-bauble, hidden
in humdrum clam - Jonah's wail, phonautographed
by Byzantine toy elephant... some corn-fed seraph
Ruth found (a-slumber) on her way to Rachel's barn.

Earth just tuning up, the way an infinite keyboard
found a home in Mendelssohn. Five-finger exercises.
We count the cost together, local guys n' gals
figuring out Saskatchewan - but look upstream, toward

rainy spring (where river-whales play hippopotami
arpeggios). Look there, look there. Cassiopeia
and her Milky King - your mother-stream's calliope -
a muted requiem. The universe. Sings come with me.

5.11.08 (Pentecost/Mother's Day)

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