LEAN MUSIC
If I walk with Hobo through this wormhole
at the bottom of a zigzag
Mississippi... will I see Cesca Tag
again, when we were young (my soul)?
In Providence? Et tu, S2?
Picketing the perimeter
of Sagittarius A*,
noting that gravitational tug, you
sense her there, the ghost star...
back of an ecce-crypt
time-vacancy you slipped
through (holeworm, treacherous sailor).
Lean music of the sunflower.
Tall spirit loyal to the sky.
Your gravity a steel gateway,
oar-eye – florescing tacit power.
So this gold Einstein-Rosen bridge
domed by the Milky Way
shines like a lighthouse ray
into a monarch’s heart. You wedge
there, anxiously, between her wings,
like the child in the blindfold
when a Black Ship sailed...
til tenderly his midnight origami brings
enfoldment to the nth dimension;
Liberty her royal seal
in beeswax, breathing... feel,
Hamlet, soft sunlight’s restoration!
11.19.19
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