VIA FRANCIGENA
My path of J, my Via Francigena.
You can read it on the Q-
line train, between St. Lou
& Monk’s Mound (clay Cahokia).
Choo-choo, J-J, Joanna, Giuliana...
on the milk train way,
your dewy morning ray –
autumnal hoot of helmeted Athena
(hooya-hey). Fled with her child
from rude dragon. Nightmare
tyranny (unveiling there
the root of human woe). So the scald
burns his tattoo into each trumpet call –
the empty mirror of the king
crowns him equal to everything.
So gather him weird into your iris squall,
milky Sophia – gold sunflower
stretched into an almond
ark of mustard limbs (wand
blooming with abject surrender).
Because I love, because I love...
Behold, my child, I have
no wrath. & in the hive
of clay lips, trace her architrave –
tacit surrender to a violet
sown by storm (below
these wars of villain & hero).
Where the wheel pivots, my river-pilot.
10.26.19
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