MONARCH MILK
‘Tis hot & muggy in the octagon
upon St. Swithin’s Day.
& will it rain? Say.
St. Emperor Henry’s (Holy Roman)
also, once upon a time. It’s stifling.
An unreal toad usurps
the garden throne, & burps.
His orange tongue is mean, & trifling;
his fire-red refuge-chair is for a child
who hasn’t come home
in 33 years. Christendom
conquered the Holy Sepulchre... wild
slaughter & rejoicing on this day,
1099. But will his Ghost
1099. But will his Ghost
lift from that gloomy host?
Joachim daubs a fingerpaint contrary
blindly, with bare feet (a cave-fresco
for San Francisco). & Henry
plots his own obscure & minatory
figure : double wheels. Of milky glow
& river-clay – Cahokia, North Star.
To turn the Great Year
5 29s... & spin from here
some monarch milk (a little almond to restore).
7.15.19
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