spoke of a water-wheel


Along the riverbank, these rich
dark green moss-terraces;
a miniature forest
spreading wide along each niche

of Pliocene sea-limestone.
Archive of mollusc-whorl
& sea-worm spiral
layers of plastered ivory linen.

An infinitely tiny bronze
french horn accompanies
trompette marine – Willie’s
gauzy smoke-signal de Paris;

petrified remains of carven
calumet from Red Wing,
maybe.  This is nothing
like a Pipestone atlatl, Raven

croaks.  Spoke of a water-wheel,
more likely.  Jessie O’s
clay potter swells
with gentle pats & frills – feel

how her spine of Fish-Man surfaces
profound supremacy of whale!
A wheel that will not fail
springs to its trickle-task, washes

the wilderness from every face
until its light-green glory
meshes Ezekiel’s story –
wheel wends with wheel (a carapace


of pearl enfolds that golden bough)
until a plangent joy
beams from unfurling J
in spokes of rose aye-aye lands now –

one Great Red Spot, so thundery
& jovial – one Yahweh-
Manitou, in one streamway –
the Rio del Espiritu, at play

across prairies & meadowlands
in centrifugal fugue –
day-lily orange bugle-
calls, mauvelets a monarch understands –

until at last the torch of Liberty
lifts from her copper shroud

to chant moss-green out loud
& set the Mississippi free...

As when the labyrinth of St. Louis
glimmers wheat-gold amid
deep shade (Monk’s Mound)
– & signs the tidal drone (commence!)

to shift the Earth from fraudulence –
fallacious Midas-usura
whose Minotaur is US-
R-US – whose glow of carbon flatulence

burns orange rage (from White House
into every gilded cage)
& all the world’s a stage
for strutting tyros in malevolence...


Peace is another way.  Humility.
How Eeyore-mule (San Fran)
transmutes to Eero Saarinen.
With the power  of soul   any-

thing is possible   the tacit poverty
of yearning love  bent
by Br’er Francesco’s Lent
into a welcoming   equality

chaste eye of akme equity
out of an almond branch
in Petersburg   will launch
once more   peals of humanity

from the great Rose of Providence
wheeling & swinging wide
with Chartres sunlight   O glide
with me   downstream, Hobo   immense

Pacific beckons   from the galaxies
where kind Melchizedek
pours milk of live-oak
acorn mead   shares bread   from nursing

YHWH’s heart   sweet Manitou’s   delight.
Enfolded in the subtle veil
of golden fleece   & gray whale-
oil   that infinite fine safety-net

swings like a hammock in the breeze
beneath twin flaming pillars
where a starfish falls
& lifts her   from salt wave   to Paradise


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