LOVE LEADS
In the phosphorus dwelling-place of the Most High
Dante, murmured Hobo
will I be able to hear
that melancholy train-horn cry
so-so long gone? His pal Henry
felt that ol’ pulsing flame
of lonesombrero, becomin’
churnagogue (centripetal clay) –
that emerald lichen-moss of Giuliana,
flanking a time-hewn sepulcher
with it still whorl
of tesseratic Emperors & Empresses... ah
Psyche, from those regions which
are Holy-Land! Smoky
incense signals eye-
in-hand, Galla (yon casket-niche).
The soul is feminine. The turbulent
churnagogue is melting
galaxies, in buttermilk –
hamlets of sacred discontent;
YHWH, detached from patriarchal kings
unveils a weird Coatlicue-
possessed & epileptic Dante-
muse... Venusian fire – & Jonah sings
Love leads us up like moth to flame
from steel-train Iron Range
down to Delta... strange
diamond, Latrobe (El MLK mandala-frame).
7.29.19
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