Ides of July


On this defunct St. Emperor Henry’s Day
the cavaliers of Christ broke down the walls
massacred the cityfolk, & found
the Holy Sepulchre.  & it was empty.
His midget kingdom was a bit of ground
6 ft. x 6.  Beneath Jo’s linen palls
that Body slept, 3 nights… then slipped away.

So Earth corrals the sun again (at mid-July).

Old Henry rotates his lugubrious clay
like cenotaph, or marble toy.  Through hells
of blinded crowds – mesmeric crown
for snobbish mobs, heartless autocracy –
deracinated tribes, bent for destruction.
So humankind spins round its Book of Kells
by fiddlehead bronze… on heaven’s way.


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