SLATE PANOPLY
Henry’s Chair is in the woods,
beside the Rio del Espiritu
Santo. Hobo to you,
mayhap – lost in his darker moods;
drawing a diagram in river-sand
of Ursiana’s barer pillars,
moss-bound Giuliana’s
pines (forlorn Ravenna swampland).
Emblems of spiritual epilepsy,
moon friar. Lame lone wolf
Dante, crying for a proof
of integral radiance (nay, nay
sobs hunchback Leopardi).
Hiawatha whistles there –
follow the tripping Hare
Whirlaway to Itasca – see?
The spring. Mammoth drone of stream.
Down to St. Lou,
where airs axle true –
bloodveined grey sponge, clay dream...
tuning-fork in the river road.
Wheel, innocent rabbi,
through your Galilee
of primary colors – lift the load
from Henry’s sloping shoulders. Bend
a prism to Columbia,
slate panoply of Jonah-sky –
who lights the harbor at grave’s end.
9.15.16
Henry's Chair
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