ROSE EYE
Henry, Seeker, trails Hobo down.
Molting to Hobo in his sleep.
A baby spring flows deep...
soft ripple, brimming delicate renown
amidst angels, & water nymphs.
His almond lens mists over
out of focus (blurred,
all out of blue red). His eye limps.
High in the dark sky chant the stars
above distraught Columbia.
Arcturus, Regulus, Spica –
framing a gargoyle versus Mars
(opposing men-o’-violence, that Man
of Lawlessness); a trio
in the Dragon’s Head (O
money jungle, African fleurette). Tin pan
for Paris ghost-dance gold... your own
damn note, hunchback Igor
(boom boom Guillaume, poly-
poilu). Viol sez, follow me down.
A purple prince from Minneapolis!
Adonis of grain elevators!
Lapped into clay (all yours,
A-frame). A rose eye came – his sis,
Iris-Sophia. Whorled full of vertigo,
gaunt San Francisco...
floored in the adamant, so
grand. Your sky-blue motherland, Hobo.
1.27.20
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