Lanthanum 11.17

So we lurked there, under the flickering canopy
of oakleaves, on the Terrace.  Suddenly Natasha
leapt to her feet.  Come on, HenWe’ve stashed
in this hutch long enoughlookThe Gateway’s
waiting for us!  She produces the frames again –
again, far out west, I spy the dazzling golden
bauble of that dome beside the river.  Our own
homegrown Hagia Sophia...  OKclimb on
into my Falcon Cloudvertible.  We’re gonna zip.
I squeeze inside the ethereal airshipCall her
Spirit of St. Ella Chartwell – formal moniker,
anywayElla will do.  Then we launch at a clip
& soar high into the sunbright blue!  In no time
(literally) we’re hovering above the Mississippi,
the wide-open Gloriana of midwestern infinity
stretching every way below.  Slow pantomime,
a parade of ships!  Airboats, barges, carracks &
canoes; dhows, elf-coracles, fly-boats; gondolas &
garbage scows; hydrofoils, inflatables; junks, lighters,
motorboats; Nordlands, outriggers, punts & rafts –
sloops, towboats... umiaks... Very Slender Vessels;
wakas, water taxis... yachts & yawls... Z-boats!
My eyes went wide.  This darting intensitygnats
on a drowsy serpent, faring upstream, down... swells
from one subterranean, Uranian sourceSprings
from Alph to Ocean River, round & through us,
all-engulfing; flows to one fiord we each must
cross at lastClear Jordan... brook of winnowing.

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