WRY PLANET
The caw of a solitary crow
tracks its own echo straight
through the sonic vanishing point.
Past fanfare of the here & now
through a pinhole in the iris of Osiris
or some other shadow
Everyking from long ago.
Some Isis Peirce-the-Veil, or Most
High Elephant from Nile-source
cradling Victoria
for Homo Sap (Erecta) –
kindly Melchizedek, primeval Spouse
offering his star-crossed bread & wine
beneath Polaris &
the Twin Cup-Bears
to lift each soul into his milky Sign.
I hear the rasping of an iron swing.
C-row... chi-rho... Behold –
a shepherd in his fold
of 99 lambkins! The last king
looks out from bairn-cupola, a crown
of stars. A gardener
in the graveyard. Mary’s
pal, incognito (Son of Man).
A retina, streaked with a spectacle
of tears. Psychopomp
beyond Caesar’s last trump.
Ocean-continuum... wry planet oracle.
3.15.16
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