Inland sea


Old Hobo glances back upstream
as the spring bluets form
an inland sea – a swarm
of peacock eyes (out of a dream-

song dome) across the autumn grass.
Retrospective.  Phoebus
in an ochre crevasse,
Magdalenian cave-compass.

Your yearning for Eurydice,
so youthful-hungry, Henry
out of want, not plenty
ignorant (in your blind way).

An oscillation of the sun
and moon.  The Q. of Heaven
looks out from her den,
mild lioness... dusky horizon.

Henry, by his veiled statue,
thinks on Beatrice
(pine-green eyes, sea-
grey).  His melancholy’s ocean-blue.

Jerusalem, JerusalemHow
I would have gathered you...
the soul’s an orphan zoo
without the smile of Manitou.

A little tree in Galilee
still rustles in the breeze
from a breathing sea.  She’s
calling you, sailor.  Be free.


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