find the unicorn


Fear of another is fear of death.
Instinctual reaction
to deadly situation – a
primitive contagion, or jaguar teeth.

So history’s abacus shuttles
red & black, or blue
& green... just for you,
little black-&-yellow Moth of Battles.

These stately river-cottonwoods
flare mossy banners
now; Hobo’s many spanners
choke the bridge-works.  Shaker bloods

from Puget Sound redeem themselves
with help from epileptic
shaman-chants... pep-talk
of buried elderberry souls (elves’

yodels, echoing their green on green).
The Word circles like
a hungry raven – pike
or spearmint (Mermaid Queen).

St. Louie, with his trumpet, now
brings up the nondescript
rear-guard.  The script
calls for Ezekiel, or sunflower –

Iris in the limestone cliff
curls into Unknown
Soldier.  Soddy Brown
they called him (working stiff)


whose star skims from the evening murk
anonymous Firebird
or twinkling agate-shard
in snarl of spiral Melville shark-

tooth, spouting salty balderdash
crossing the Portland bar
– whose thunder-straits are
worse than Frisco Bay mish-mash.

O the gray shade-vault of chilly Chartres!
The golden limestone cave
framed with architrave
of ancient enmity – Synagogue-martyr!

The fractal fault-line of an old polemic
circulating ossified
eddies of Johnny’s gospel
spleen... (tragic & epidemic

unintended consequences).
O the smiling Word
chants resurrection... heard
in Ramah & Ravenna, Rimini (Ez

kowtowing to voracious Rule).
Crossroad strictly abstract
for everyone – the trick’s
to find the unicorn (a holy fool

who paces like St. Francis through
the prairie steppes).  Someone
calls you... homespun
Natasha, limping toward the sun (ey yo).


No comments: