Dreamsong heads downstream


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.


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