GRAND MARQUIS
Armistice Day. For all veterans.
For memory of an end
to hostilities. Promised Land
or Providence... high limbs of the ones
who came before, palms lifted (orans).
From martyrs of brave speech,
whole truth, let us beseech
ineffable blessing. Alighieri stands
nigh frozen Sant’Apollinaire
trasumanare in Ravenna.
Where mossy Giuliana
calls me from her potter’s lair
(soft aviator from a sunken realm).
Like that Tim Taylor, seeker
at Pacific depth (1132
ft. down... USS Grayback graven on its helm).
Project Lost 52 – to bring to light
every forsaken sheep-canoe
& let them float anew
somewhere divine (mercurial transit
of the Martian sun). She’s calling me.
Like salt-grain in the war-engine,
a kernel from the Corn Maiden
of Grant Wood haunts... her Grand Marquis
a black blind spot across that gilded orb,
Ferrari Rio Santo Spiritu –
she snakes toward you (& you)
from her smile-park (topaz to curb).
11.11.19
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