8.08.2019

whispers out of Colchis



painting by Michael Gould (acrylic and Elmer's Glue)

MILKY DOME

Henry hearkened to the dream song hum
along the stairwell of a crane
bone flute.  The black mane
of Mama Miriam Dodona waved to him.

As if a little tree anchored his coracle;
a branch of whispers out of Colchis,
woolen silky-shroud of Maximus –
his golden fleece a minor miracle

where twin wheels mesh to form one
almond (of almonds).  Mighty
mickle canoe, whose Isis-eye
looks from the prow (tease of the sun).

There is a vortex in the Black Sea
where the Great Year pivots –
Hamlet churns through his regrets
there, until Milky Way whorls like a G.

There is a grail of emerald stone
beckons from the bottom
of the sea.  Four rivers stream
out of a matrix there – exalted zone

of moody CHURNAGOGUE – the potter’s
center & circumference;
Ferrara ghetto-sense
mingled with Dante-radiance (all hers).

& the backward Nile flows down to Memphis
where the martyr at the bleak hotel
sipped from her cup, & cancelled Hell –
his milky dome hoisted to foamy wisdom-bliss.

8.8.19

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