emerald, magenta, rust

DIVINING ROD

These heavy green butternuts

fall to the green grass

from the milky axis

of the Po-tree – go thump & burst

(each one a miniature globe

of moist black earth).

Thus Hobo mused, at berth

among the river fronds, robed

in emerald, magenta, rust.

One such blade his wand,

divining rod – her land

releasing signs out of the dust;

smoke-signals, signed, co-signed

into a circle (arcing back

to the beginning of the track).

Jade footsteps from a cloudy mind,

a raincloud out of futurepast;

merging, centripetal –

heaven is integral –

a raven knife, a pinecone mast

(that rotates on a maze of grass

within a vapid place

of sterile office space).

Flowers are immortal – pass

then, with Hobo, through the Gate!

Arc-welded acorn

crown for children –

rainbow-faceted checkmate

                 *

that beats Goliath with a tiny mite!

A baby meteor,

a coal of holy fire –

wholeness at heart, golden moonlight!

Her orb gleams like a seal, a coin –

meek penny versus

dolorous minions,

or muted acorn humming down

brass trumpets of disputing despots.

It is the dolphin-seal

of Ocean State, an Israel

incarnate in the rose bee-glade.  What’s

hidden in the earth, a promise

limping with Natasha –

with immovable Nadezhda,

still in Voronezh – liberty, justice;

a rainbow equilibrium, that harbors

simple shining Gates –

St. Frisco’s nail-bites

lifting iron weights, up to palm-arbors

evergreen!  That glory be hidden

like a key, or like a rudder

in the wave – to shudder

into light upon the crest... thy pardon

for this history, White Rose!

Row to the Keys, Hobo –

Eureka by the Po,

our watering hole – look whose Face glows!

9.8.16