crumbs beside the Po


The life that spirals from the sea-cave
like a serpent-root, a curious
labyrinth etched across
the limestone of a vaulted nave –

the dappled sparkling of infant
river-wavelets.  Mud-brown
vortex of an unknown
casket – Easter-packet – font

of raven-crumbs, beside the Po.
Or Ishmael’s hieroglyph –
inverted fisher-skiff
of pregnant galaxy below

afloat now, circling – a living hand,
an arm, forehead, eyebrow...
emergent tar minnow –
Tad Pole, or Polly Wag, some sand-

borne seaweed driftwood Jane...
Christa on crossties, or
IONAH (in Paradise).  Your
Queequeg is a queer cuss, man,

but OK – floats all right – can even
swim.  His Ariadne-
boles are capillary –
vein his bones into a crown

of 50 stars (for Jubilee).
The echo-cave is empty...
only EurekaShe
has found him! crows (from sea to sea).


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