Lanthanum 11.6

We’ll turn back homeward now, Natasha said.
She spun me round again, facing east – I was
still wobbling like a pelican – so, with a smile
she said, Come, join me in my strato-sled.
We lounged in the cockpit, rested for a moment
(just the twinkle of an almond eye).  She pointed
through that shimmer-haze, toward the Atlantic
– azure screen that mingled sea & sky.  A tent
of tangled green stood ‘mid rainbow circumflex
(a vivid, vernal dome).  This is the secret house
of William Blackstonestray self-exiled priest
the one who went to live with Narragansetts,
Wampanoags. & then I saw the blurry figure
of a man – arms raised, framed by that wooden
fogbound alcove.  In a free wilderness, beholden
to none, he found a place to start anewyour
pioneer of spiritual liberty (& grace, & peace,
& happiness).  Preached kindly, bravely there
under his Catholic Oak... yet his real treasure
pearl past comparewas Sabbath-day release;
in lone prayer, on Study Hill, he fixed his gaze
within & through that wavering candleflame’s
dream-vision (victory).  Among his apple trees
his Yellow Sweets – Will B. beheld the rays
of a round & ruddy world set freesome future
realm of Jubilee.  I glanced then over at Natasha
on her cloudy couch – saw another MadaleƱa... in
that dawnlit graveyard, weeping.  With a gardener.

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