serene enchantment


Springtime earth bears a secret promise
for that unknown child
somewhere, today – mild
summons of the midnight stars

foretell the coming of her Magi, too.
May burgeons toward her
flowery grand fanfare
beneath its vault (red, lilac, blue) –

a royal seal of lilac coronation;
within that dome’s one
multiocular panopticon
prophetic voices merge in exaltation –

serene enchantment of perennial life
blooming toward light itself
(O fragrant almond staff
sprouting sweetness – beyond all strife).

The infant nested in a great oak’s shade
smiles in soft seaborne air.
Ocean will prepare
her Restoration Day – as you were made

in the beginning, so shall you be again.
Shining in Paradise,
where all the rivers rise;
gemstones of blazing men & women

awakening from mind’s blindness.
Under an azure-orange arch
they sail... grail-search
fulfilled – Love’s everflowing happiness.



Whitsun yodeling


Hobo goes with the flow of things,
he sinks into the green
entanglement of vine
& grape, the stream’s faint ripplings.

His logos is a Lincoln knot
scratched into driftwood
while Turtledove cooed
overhead (so reads Coyot’).

The knot binds everything, as with
her singing spine, the Argo
bound over il Mar Nero
Noé’s noeud of adoration (myth

turned moth turned monarch seal).
Echoes from a cave
one vanished brave –
Love’s breadcrumb, who became a meal.

All come to bloom in memory...
as the canoe in the garage
scented with Micòl-image
breathes again inscript in Bassani.

A grail of dew sprinkles the summer grass
with Hobo’s oasis-gems;
yearning no one condemns
uplifted where it shall not pass –

into that monarch-realm of dark cedar
where a thrush warbles
& salt breeze marbles
lilac dusk (by Po-Boy River).





Palmers wayfare toward Jerusalem
& Holy Sepulchre –
empty signifier
for an Easter hymn (they’ve taken him

away).  A grail of ever-floating joy –
love’s Pentecost
fire-fizz Ghost
Dance for 50 stars (Old Glory

stitched anew from burial shroud).
Rivers of Paradise
(Tigris, Euphrates,
Nile, Big Muddy) circle back to cloud

of Ocean-Stream – source of sky-waters,
like round limestone
beaded with ripple-shine
to emerald gleam (through grisaille shutters).

Hobo, fish-eyed Fisher King,
beheld this vision
through a wavy octagon
of old gazebo planks.  & sinking

down upon his quaint Vienne étable
his head (like Bran of Grain
Elevator) made moan
for Miriam, or Marian, as in the fable.

Until your May-time dawn refulgence
metamorphosed everything
into one almond fling –
Oak Restoration (eye-in-palm, perchance).



Philadephia harbor


Stewart’s old print of Philadelphia harbor
(1821).  The great shade tree
by the shore, so peacefully
imposing.  What’s America for?

The benign bonheur, hovering over
our intricate pursuits
of same.  The one who loots
forcefields of dominance, mon frère,

may never find this canopy
of feathery leaf-
grace, hopeful belief...
for we the people brook no satrapy –

relentless justice of the golden rule
the frame of human dignity;
law’s equilibrium of equity
our guarantee of commonweal.

My own boat pilots back to Mendelssohn
so slowly, through such vast
flat riverlands.  Her mast
a pine tree split from almond Someone

cloudy shadow of a smile (O shady oak).
Your heavy clay, Coatlicue –
the chilly violence you
still portray – fired to a silver spoke

as fine as spiderweb, becomes a sign.
Your limestone epitaph –
a serpentine & fractal staff
fractured for us, broken for bread & wine.



those double doors


Those double doors of the Baptistery
in Florence, where Alighieri
was restrained from returning.  He
might have admired the mastery

of Lorenzo Ghiberti – that golden river
of perfection, surging from
Eden to Gesthemani... some
inscrutable summa of Prime Mover

spoked in parables of heartbreak
& confusion (Miriam, lifting
both hands in agony).  So bring
what you have to a blindman’s break-

fast, to her Thanksgiving feast.
From the belly of a whale
came Jonah whole & hale
as dolphin-breach (O swift grey beast)!

The linèd forehead of Leviathan
is like your own... therefore
be not dismayed.  Footsore
mule, flinty thin Prophet Stan,

your Livingstone (still at the Nile)
holds firm against the flow
of time – your steadfast glow
upon the brow of them who show.  Smile,

Indigo!  Passage to more than blue!
– these equilibria
of gyroscape... mute
mutualità, below the soil... deep rescue!



How to be God's friend?


The lifesaver : a fruity ring
invented by Hart Crane’s
father.  Across the plains
yawing wind-wagons roll.  Something

akin to Grant Wood corn, maybe –
an icon.  All’s figures,
counsels holy Zero
Summer.... Burchfield parody

(complete with feverish Light-
in-Gale).  Deep swampland
heartland, over sand-
fly latitudes.  God’s outa sight;

Dad’s a kind of Kingfish, generous
in all the wrong ways.
Those were the dog days.
Rain... unlikely hymn (so mysterious) –

another author, just beyond the pale.
Moses climbs from his dinghy
ready to shake that thingy –
waterspew from Rock (a Word, set sail).

How to be God’s friend? ask
the Friends.  Williams hectored,
but he left on record
how to walk humbly (high shellfish task)...

Friends gathered in a Rhody cave.
Silence is best response
to Charlie’s dalliance.
Our Author is a friendship trope – to save,

not to condemn.



I am what I ham


The night train rumbles like a ghost
of iron over the bridge
over the river.  Sage
Minnehaha, Hobo loves you most.

He’s lying by the muddy bank
trying to clear his head.
Everything he’s read
demands – who am I to thank?

The driftwood spines of shattered books
surge downstream, sink.
Think, Hobo, think –
a deadman’s glancing you posthumous looks.

Twin humps in winter refuse
under the lamp-green
of young leaves...  Scene :
pillars try an almond (Moses, Jesus).

Through teenage foliage coheres
the rust-brown iron magnet
of one (hold tight!)
modal mine of shifting gears –

the rocky profile of a personal friend,
who’s center’s nowhere
& who’s hairline is (look there,
Horatio!) nowhere near the end.

A sibyl croons from the ancient world
whose prince is dancing
naked by the prow.  Sing,
mickle dam... like slingshot hurled.



one Coke hand


High fan of infant cottonwood leaves.
Their light-green spray,
pale sign of spring today.
Come late (come early May).  Cleaves

to the swollen river – spewing snowmelt,
winter flotsam, garbage.
Nature floats this mirage
of metaphors... for what the Sibyl spelt.

Your sister-dove (Jeannette-Columbia).
Shade of Beatrice –
plumb-bob Eurydice,
sounding the depths of Sheol (ephphatha).

On this day in 1775
Little Rhody broke the tie
with Mother England.  Die
is cast.  The wasps have left the hive.

Still an ineffable spider-bridge
dangles its catenary M
between two pillars.  Hymn
of Wisdom’s unbreakable pledge –

octave uniting heaven & human,
person to person – one
Coke hand, spun
to Ocean State... wide chordal span!

Your mirror of primordial Sea
(reflecting golden doors
of Baptistery) pours
lilac-joy – Love’s ripe To Be.



be manifest, be imminent


Nestled in his city of rivers & bridges,
hidden in his cabin
of Lincoln logs, alone
like that baby screech owl (wedged

in his cozy cottonwood hideout)
Hobo will contemplate
his May-time temperate
zone, his mild creation, riverine, remote.

Knotted by Amor – like an Incan quipu-
net, like a ruby bud
of that burbling Word
afloat so murkily nearby (his Brook of Q).

Ahav-be-manifest – be imminent
as hale touché-scapegoat
whose royal honey-kismet
soldered Okean to oak – bent

light to leaden doomroad (East
to West).  Jerusalem
gleams in the sun – shalom,
shalom to the returning one!  A feast

for the soul of yon American
blindfolded rambler.
Holy fool, shambler-
yurodivy, from Voronezh to San Fran

you’ll meander, like an old river
& mumble of a Union
equable & all-human –
soft Tuscan hills, moss-green forever.