beneath gray Bruegel sky


Crows ink beneath gray Bruegel sky.
A line from A to B
zigzags spacetime – see?
So raven vanishes in Noah’s eye.

Between two points, a yawning Ocean.
Infinite intensity
of black-hole density
draws yesterday into its spin.

What is your personal specific gravity?
The poem is gray pebble,
obscure soldat (trouble
for no one).  Ordinary Smitty

whose greatcoat pocket holds an agate.
Lodestone of a jay
tracing King’s Highway
into the calyx of a ruse (checkmate).

It is Path P, the chi-rho
branch – diamond
mandala of almond;
Black Elk milk road (ey yo).

Love is the tread between twin pillars 
only a glance of weightless
spiderweb.  Inverness
of vernal tenderness... wind, stars...

when the bow sways in its wave-cradle
& Ithaca, Iona, Eire
lift like green fire
Skye-perpendicular – familiar grail-dreidel.


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