FLIGHT-PATH
The heavy freight cars clinky-clunk
across the iron bridge.
The fright none can abridge,
tribes’ crimes, no matter how deep-sunk
beneath Big Muddy waters of oblivion...
a heap of birds, still footloose,
shoeless (moccasins,
not lady-slips) – each alien citizen
from Cloud Man Village (in mirrors
near Mirror Lakes). The DNA
gets even with Edina,
Adam – eidolons of Mendelssohn longeurs
gone wilder now, gone weedy, native.
Your nimble paeans, flying
yeast to west, are tying
knots of soul pain into silos – jive
dives backwards (ortus/porta) –
Heidi skips Handel
by hand – O almond
rod of generations! Your vice-versa
treads of controversy flipper
the dial upon a human
(orant) golden mean.
Gaunt sundance of elderberry skipper
deep within the pilot-whale
of Jealousy – hurt pride
taken for cane-ride
through hell-hole, pole to pole
*
until you turn a new triangle –
in Bermuda, Berkeley –
by the Western Sea,
where Empire meets the salty shingle.
Reverse the langish! Scrape the jam
off the doors! Behold
What-th’Dicken’s-Son would fold
into an origami florilegium!
Cloud Man Village lasted one decade
in Minneapolis, where we
ten-thousand-century
people have planted roots – jewelweed
4th of July parade, indeed!
– a Black Elk hexagon
or hazel moth, gone
in the wrinkle of a wavy diamond.
Systole, diastole... orange arcs
repeat heartbeats,
where azure shelters fleets
of sails... flight-path of firefly sparks.
In Cloud Man Village, where the theft
& violence are felt,
are lifted with a grain of salt
to taste the bread of silo pain – deft
metamorphosis of Yahweh wrath
to steady charity –
calm spun-gold chariot,
cedar Melchizedek love-bath.
9.22.17
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