I dream a general restoration


The early ice on the Mississippi
forms a maze of frozen
eddies, a chaos of cotton-
wood leaves on glass, all dark & ripply.

Somber November drawing on
toward JB’s Janus-mouth.
Slight man, moth-
light, leaf-blown from iron span.

I dream a general Restoration
cousin, cuz.  Because
our love that never was
lies crypted in a deeper congregation

of earthworms... Earth-life...
this pumpkin-celebration
where each seed is someone
like a minuscule canoe (collective

buoyancy, anchored in agape).
Not that Cyclops-utopia
ice-locked with Satana
imperador del doloroso regno, nay!

Rather a contra-dance of Earth
& Sky, a balancing
of stillness with evolving –
clay vase molded into mirth

by humble presence of the king
(of servant-kings).  A single
molecule of brine (NaCl)
is tabernacle bread & wine (of everything)


& you will meet her in the ordinary courtyard
of the everyday (she’s Everywoman-
Everyman).  This is a vision
of figure & ground.  She’s walking toward

you, now... like Roger Williams, stepping through
twin pillars on the Terrace...
Providence, a place
of mercy & discretion (fair & true).

I cannot put it into words, this waltz
of swirling time & high
eternity.  It is the sky
spanning the sea.  It is the salt

in everything; it is the molten dove
dive-bombing into clay
who joins you in a sway
of hurtling dancers (Milky Way

a-sarabanding, up above).  I cannot
put it into words.
The brutal violence
(stone-hearted ignorance) surds in a knot

of self-destruction, planetary waste
& You must turn & repent
cries San Francesco, bent
upon his imitatio Christi (feet laced

with scars).  It is the Via Francigena.
You will walk back to the river
sped with such a pulse... her
springing from the graveyard (Magdalena).


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