Sur le pont d'Avignon


The cutthroat sun over Minneapolis
leaks light into many
dark corners.  Rimini
in mind (a limpstone palimpsest

beneath shellfire).  Go & strike
the tents, men long way
to Tipperary.  Say,
Francesca, if you can – how to make

things new.  Peer into womb
of earth-cavern, Ezra –
all the way to Ravenna...
At far end of Pontus rest him tomb

where Theseus stole them golden fleece
Maximus   whose sea-blue
eyes of   geomatrix   (thrum
true)   abstract chamber piece

like waves reiterating   into nautilus
the human sum   reframed
from steel teeth (Somme
bad dream)   the whole shark armistice

To turn   from bull’s-eye bulletins
down a narrow corridor
or trench file   war
in the hand, in the mind   sin’s

armature   in the marrow   Guillaume
& Jesus   the   steamboat pilot
metymorfs   the whole plot
in a forest   of masts   high sunset room


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