stone for bread, bread for stone


The soupy heat slouches toward
July.  Flesh sags &
drips, we’re breathing und-
erwater.  Jonah’s gone overboard.

A billion fins of fans rotate,
create more heat.  Hobo
lies flat under a willow.
He daydreams of an ancient date

by Highland Water Tower; the whole town
spread before them, just
beyond the graveyard.  Lost
her name somewhere.  Don’t drown

me in false memories, he begs.
Canova’s statue (broken)
of George Washington
writes its own ave over his crossed legs.

Farewell, Columbia.  Guard well
her statue in the harbor.
Beggar not they neighbor.
Muzzle Nero, tripping up from hell.

That shimmering seine, the veil of Isis
shrouds the face of Henry’s
Clover.  Out of bleakness
of the grave, young spring may rise;

beyond the azure of the Golden Gate
one facet of euphoria –
one artophoria
of stone – revives... brings light to fate.


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