all aboard the Midnight Sun


O Lady walking by, in black
jacket & yellow skirt,
you lift me from inert
& vacant thought into a way-back

memory-milieu.  The Promised Land
of sunlight at midnight
is nest for monarch flight
& viceroys too (you’ll understand

when we get there).  The Milkweed King
is Hobo in disguise –
the motherland is prize
for steady Jim (gone huckleberrying

with Oblomov).  He walks gently
into rabid disputes,
young Nanabozo – toots
his horn – Rabbi-clown, my

Hiawathee Bigfootprints
of Peace; he’s taken down
in order to rebound
into renown, like Printemps

Spring-Rain Joan, or Franny Cricket
(she of jingling anklets
in the cedar dusk).
There’s earthy scent beneath the musket;

there’s a penny in the well.
A dinged wing├Ęd profile
traipses from the Nile –
elopes from Memphis (into Israel).


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