Cirque Planetaire


Gray coal cars thunder monotonously
across an old iron bridge.
Only a local image
in midwestern bleak.  Your poem will be

allegorical, of necessity
since an Earth so various
is only one of a series
on parade (sparkling panoply

du Cirque Planetaire).  Italian sun
is as a brazen shield
above scarred poppy field;
the moon a candle in Pavian dungeon...

Poema Sacra, Dante’s testament
รจ tutto didascalico
a climber’s manual (to go
from shady gloom to cheerful summit

of Rose Mountain splendor).  My sun
rides low in winter sky,
chanting How Not to Die
in plain & soulful Minnesotan

(Ojibwa).  The dream of history
breaks open at its heart.
All-human upstart
hills (Superior, or Tuscany)

fill nets of silver phosphor –
your soul’s a philosopher
in love with twin Mirror
Lakes (Justitia, Amor).


No comments: