in a land of Gerrhi


Light cottonwood fluff-motes drift
from high green vaults
along the river, Walt.
Thy hobo-hymn floats like swift

Scythian swallows   over the steppes
Gerrhi   in a land of Gerrhi
gray   milkers of mares
Geloni   like Jonah   swallowed up

& cast-off   by the sea again
like an exiled raven
scouring   the salt-sown
slate   for breadcrumbs, broken

limbs, dry vines   any sign
of home, of motherland
Guillaume would understand
Colossus of roses   tall man

grown meek   bemused upon his own
Bermuda   who bears a little
salt-bundle   close to heart
lifted six ways   a hexagon

grown octagonal   a diamond
have salt among yourselves
& plant   peace shelves
atop green Andes   condor-monde

Thus crooned the shuffling friar
under orange garage door
over grey sea-floor   as
poplars, nigh Gellone   signed, Ephphatha


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