so Pocahontas might emerge again


The timid sun blanches behind these clouds
of January dim.  The miniature
ice-floes speckle the river
as they move south.  Chilled Hobo nods.

Yes, Henrah, there’s sleep-work to do
in this hibernation.  Dream-
boats a-building.  My trireme’s
a ship-in-a-bottle (of Irish brew).

See through the glass?  A beauty she is.
A bloom of almond petals
like a round of Grumman metal
canoes (nickel-dime aluminum Kris-

Kraft, maybe).  Like a micro-tuned
pontoon bridge, bent
from Iron Range to Ghent
gildered from Gravensteen to Gravesend.

Henry slumped on a frigid cottonwood
stump, stumped.  The lantern-
bark in Hobo’s paw turned
green... little nef of oaken holly wood.

Cathedral Mary mine... he intoned.
Turn back the puny gangsters
of the bleakthese drugstore
Minotaurshigh Fraudulence enthroned.

So Pocahontas might emerge again
& roll Rebecca out of Gravesend
lifting her golden wave of corn
enchanted, vertical... toward Washington.


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