Fontegaia, scrabbling along the surface...


Clouds on the move, painted gray sky wind
through the maple trees a raw-boned old oak
almost broken by drought a single raven, stuck
up there croaking his heart out of his mind

Sometimes these dark spells in the middle of June
presage a quick downpour hailstorm, flood tornado
when out of a gilded gloaming prairie pleroma O
look there's a handsome cloud
like a black doubloon

nailed to the writhing mass of an Iowa twister
an emptiness at zero hour & I guess
I think about Berryman on the bridge in Minneapolis
in December teetering, drunk get along, Mister

a game of Bohemian Solitaire in Lutheran precincts
Hobo Card turns up Queen of Spades in
or looking ice in the eye, wades
out O Johnny-go-lightly so many skating rinks

there used to be & skittering along the ice
like oak leaves in January nervous, unable to grasp
the hand of the arm hooked around mine (gasp!)
to a sober nostos in the detox tank (Minnesota nice)

& the Mississippi still moving along under
the snow this is raven country (stylish rake
with fishknife beak & snow-bandage, caked
over one eye) who dives for the target : (rotund)

Rainbow King swaying at the bottom of a well
sunlit harbinger of oaken fleets sunk to the ground
a choral sepulchre (1132 fathom) sounded
still sound (unraveled ravishment of Russian bells)

[Typing this on my little Neo in backyard today, there was a sudden downpour, had to run inside...]

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