just beyond my window

John Gould (U.S. Navy) with root beer, Minneapolis, ca. 1946

DEEP BREATH

September crickets in the darkness

just beyond my window

harping seasonal sorrow

elegize their summer quickness.

Cassini in her pure remoteness

plunges through the rings

of Saturn.  Airy things

(that fiery opera house in Venice,

flammatory lance of Beatrice)

coalesce toward autumn,

build a nest of flame

for rangy Thunderbird (eagle-Bice).

& is it only Ouroboros?

Boreas, recycling?

The ancient iron swing

Granddad assembled (90 years

ago) still creaks its aching 2-

note plaint (see-saw,

curse-us)... as though

the Iron Age were never through.

Someone must bear it all (above

rusty Titanic murk).

My father squared his cirque

on his last day.  His eye on Love,

one grip in mine, his other hand

traced a clear circle

over that whirl-debacle

with one thin finger... with one bound

                  *

beating the bounds of that vast realm

where Jesus & Black Elk

go roamin’ (with Melchizedek).

& if a 6 turn out to be 9... at the helm

6-wingèd seraphim feather the font

of Holy Wisdom.  Little well

of do-well... purling from hell

of trompe-desire, of chaine-ressentiment;

Alighieri’s checkmated yearning

tree-hum-yuled to heart’s

lightness... O sullen art’s

deep-harrowed aim – O desperate learning!

When men fall into Minotaur’s embrace

& Ariadne’s thread

snaps at the nail-head

one slight Rabbi-hair, O Falcon-Ace

might lift you from the corral waste

into fellowship

of Primavera soul-skip;

where lovely Manto-lips taste

intelligible everlasting bliss –

a porpoise laughs at death

& with one deep breath

huffs cobwebs off God’s gold telos :

that gardener of souls at dawn

lifting a toiling Job-

of-all-work by his nob...

Rachel out-sailing Ahab... Queequeg’s fin.

9.14.17

Tom the Woodpecker

LAST NIGHT

My muddled speech, this tangled veil...

like these mingled branches

of an oak triad – spring’s

catkins green-gold (skylight-pale).

Crane’s last night in the dark Gulf.

He teeters toward the sea

aboard the Orizaba –

absolute zero, Abba’s Tower... wolf-

shark mouth of heartless Minotaur.

Cracked glaze of Manitou

might double-cross you

into salt-grey void, pegged charioteer!

– while Hobo ambles blind toward

center of the maze.

Cassini, in a crystal haze

hugs close the knife-beak sword

of Saturn’s rings.  A Saarinen-

style ark, wind-surfing

into her 7th ring

of fire – fuse-molten onion-

dome (midéwé Mendelssohn).

Walk through mandorla,

hums submarine 484...

Specific massive planetary Galilean

gravity here clusters in a coal-

black hole of Memphis

diamond (direction 6).

At marrow of the tree : oak-bole

                 *

Thomas the Woodpecker ate

into a little apostolic

room.  Darkness so thick

only a Thunderbird might penetrate.

This quipu-knot of seared wood

is double-bound (veiled

mystery, inviolate).

Only the Nazir-dancer Ghost could

walk through walls, only the Twin

could feel his wounded palms.

As the film rewinds (alms

for a morning soul) a theremin

spooks everyone – the living flame

of Beatrice-Juliet

flares orange-emerald yet

through black flags   of the same

bridge   where Columbia flutters   red

white blue   & Jonah

(azure   jasper)   joins

wheel with salty wheel   the dead

rise   from their graves   the poison

scar of scary Scriptures

cured   with ironic sutures

when the Republic   of the all-human

makes mutual amends   in welded

fire   Saturnian arc

of painful truth   mark

twain   the river-depth   Elohim healed

4.26.17