green grows the rusty O


Mighty Theseus was stuck in Hell,
strapped to a chair by Pluto.
Persephone’s no go.
Pennies clink in the wishing well.

The Blarney Stone’s a backward stretch –
cold kiss from pale ghost,
silky diner hostess
off the Isle of Man (unfinished ketch).

Snarled in the Underworld, Ariadne
warps him her cocoon...
a wee mummy pontoon
bridge, of air (soon, soon).  Erinye

Medea’s in the murk of crime,
stark raving grief –
Death offers no relief;
meek mercy must unspool this time,

unbind expiring rhyme.  Raven
Cautantowwit – wrathful
Coatlicue – skull-
wound knitting Golgotha-maven –

I ken your reddening woodpecker pate
all round our Oklahoma
home (green aura
martyrdom for scapegoat fate).

Because we won’t agree to disagree
we have to pick on somebody
small, like a refugee –
some poor kid cornered up a tree


who doesn’t sound like you or me.
Somebody will have to pay
for our settlement today –
it’s worth more dough that Proserpine

Hollow, or Bohemian Grove –
& that’s a fact.  Leaven
with mite of muddy heaven
this Martian clay of ours, O Love!

For the wars plainly disturb our sleep
& the mushy copper mirror
shows nobody anymore
way outa here.  Grave is the deep

wherein my friend is laid.  The blue
moth scatters, the monarch
flitters from the ark,
& they will not return until you

say : Blessed be he & she
who come to live with us
escaping strife, as guests
may we tender hospitality

like theirs.  The whole Indian nation
has done as much for us.
When Thunderbird appears
as thunderstorm over the dry station

the rain might ease this drought
of reason & compassion.
Share the green ration;
pipe-skip the chilly serpent out.


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