SWAMP SEASON
Like the 1001 Nights, or a man
facing a firing squad
who just keeps talking (odd
bird – Cassandra in a coal mine,
prophet without honor) so
I go on. Smoking
bloody forest of broken
ships – keening keel of Argo...
who can lift the great acorn
model Constitution?
Strong whiff of glue,
my son. The safety net is gone.
Impalement of the nations
on Stalagmite 17.
Thin poets bleed between
the cracks in their creations.
Somehow the acorn is a lightweight
coracle. Behold an order
older than disorder –
Aurora Borealis, lifting slate
steps up to bonfire (Milky Way).
Your molten magnanimity
from nothingness – to be...
becomes a Minotaur’s nightmare (hey
yo). The absence of a Someone,
croaks Crow (Solomon
anti-authoritarian) –
presence of a maze (swamp season).
4.26.18
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