Lanthanum 10.24

24

So Hobo looked out from his high prospect

across the vast wide land spread out below

& felt his heart beat by an ancient woe, a

double blow : he heard inexorable time inflect

that planetary grandeur with its transience;

& sensed his solitude.  Mocked by his own,

held in contempt; shunned as well by a divine

distaste, indignant toward his lingering offense...

Natasha, where to now? he muttered gloomily.

Shall we follow that raven to the far southwest?

I’m like a desert pelican, an owl – or loneliest

sparrow on a rooftop, here.  I’m ready

to go.  His kindred pilot’s hazel eyes kindled

& glowed then from beneath her vapor-veil;

lingered on him awhile.  Our sail swells full,

old snowbrow – we’re headed further afield

in vision now – so far southwest, it’s east of

here.  Come, rusty one – we’re off to Lazicum.

She flicks her almond wand – they see some

wraith-like, venerable patriarch, his limbs

all scarred & crippled, in a threadbare robe

of pink & azure, like a child’s blanket.  This

ancient of days is Maximus, a simple priest –

exiled from splendor of Byzantium, the orb

& scepter of his regal wisdom (Solomonic

authority of Hagia Sophia) yet remains :

immaculate light-sprinkled manna-veins

seep from his glowing lips – symphonic

flute-flights, harmonies of cosmic gratitude.

Who, like a microcosmic firmament, upheld eld

octahedral honey-dome : one sinuous joy-welded

hum divine’s duet-triad’s glissando-plenitude.

                   5.15.12