FRAIL SKY
The sheep in the mosaic, in Ravenna.
Ravens in the scroll,
in the temple (Emanu-el,
off Morris Ave). & in Siena,
Lady Pax, lolling like Jenna
on the couch, beside
Justitia. Wide
open, now, your Burchfield scena –
wind, grassland, heartache.
What brung them blues, O shy
bird bro? Frail sky
disintegrates in Birdy’s eye, beak
cradling bright penguin soot of Man.
Handing his crozier
gently to its heir
a sheepish Father Also-Ran
smiles, mild as any lambkin
Pontifox. Herder-
gypsies circle ferder
into desert places. Julius Putin
frescoes chimp dominion, over
stalag mites hiked to hell –
old human story (well,
there goes the antelope). Clover
for meadows, cottonwood for bison...
Amaranth? – or pick
your poison, Hobo Dick.
I’m rippling a dreamsonge Union.
2.29.16
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