a little more Fontegaia today...

I had thought the affair of only local importance. It did not
occur to me that it had spread beyond the territory.
- Oakley Hall, Warlock

The plumbline O my soul
troubled the water O my soul
broken King Pharaoh O my soul
limped by the pool in the old photo

the days flit by like a shadow
in a dream
, he says I am that shadow
by & by in the lullaby, O
my soul mn mn mn the waters go

ha ha ha the fountains flow laughing
& falling ha hee ho strange blue J-milk
for manna-sip in the old mosaic (Lake Mille Lacs)
chipped away by its own stone stream (humming

just up ahead of me) & so she heads domewards
a little jellyfish (my coracle & blushing rose)
to the dancing source & nobody knows her
like I do the bubble I seen
float (Frisbee-

like) homewards her 8 little bells on
8 little toes in the Sparrow Hills or
Mendelssohn flow, flow'r Flor
for the gardener (him with the oaken iron

spade & '52 speedboat) borne on a barge
upstream at the end of May (a cardinal card
upturned a 9 of hearts before the clobbered
Jack) O my soul a moth at the margin

of the painted screen at the edge of birth
where the long dream rounds unties the knot-
torn heart beside the plumbline, Juliet (well-
sign, jewel & madeleine... my muttered earth)

[p.s. note : the ancient Roman name for Siena was Saena Julia]

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