Tom the Woodpecker


My muddled speech, this tangled veil...
like these mingled branches
of an oak triad – spring’s
catkins green-gold (skylight-pale).

Crane’s last night in the dark Gulf.
He teeters toward the sea
aboard the Orizaba
absolute zero, Abba’s Tower... wolf-

shark mouth of heartless Minotaur.
Cracked glaze of Manitou
might double-cross you
into salt-grey void, pegged charioteer!

– while Hobo ambles blind toward
center of the maze.
Cassini, in a crystal haze
hugs close the knife-beak sword

of Saturn’s rings.  A Saarinen-
style ark, wind-surfing
into her 7th ring
of fire – fuse-molten onion-

dome (midéwé Mendelssohn).
Walk through mandorla,
hums submarine 484...
Specific massive planetary Galilean

gravity here clusters in a coal-
black hole of Memphis
diamond (direction 6).
At marrow of the tree : oak-bole


Thomas the Woodpecker ate
into a little apostolic
room.  Darkness so thick
only a Thunderbird might penetrate.

This quipu-knot of seared wood
is double-bound (veiled
mystery, inviolate).
Only the Nazir-dancer Ghost could

walk through walls, only the Twin
could feel his wounded palms.
As the film rewinds (alms
for a morning soul) a theremin

spooks everyone – the living flame
of Beatrice-Juliet
flares orange-emerald yet
through black flags   of the same

bridge   where Columbia flutters   red
white blue   & Jonah
(azure   jasper)   joins
wheel with salty wheel   the dead

rise   from their graves   the poison
scar of scary Scriptures
cured   with ironic sutures
when the Republic   of the all-human

makes mutual amends   in welded
fire   Saturnian arc
of painful truth   mark
twain   the river-depth   Elohim healed


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