peregrinations of a chair

EQUAL SIGN

That blazing Paradisal throne

at apex of the Rose –

for lucky Henry, Dante’s

messianic king (whose arbitration

disinterested, just & fair

may foster restoration

for acerbic nation)

is not much like this baby chair

Sophie brought from Providence

its bright red plastic beached

in Minneapolis (porched

beneath a cedar octagon of silence,

anonymity).  Vertiginous

encompassing domain

of spiritual Zion...

that firmament Moses, Aquinas,

Aristotle wrought in brazen

ineradicable raven-

ink (the prophet’s organ-

groan, the scribe’s deep acumen)

out of the ghetto of Venetian

copper foundry, lifting

moss-green Liberty (sing,

Lazarus, your stormy consummation)

into wave-bent infinite prairie –

a horizontal plate

caressed by grassland fate

beneath high snowmelt of Persephone

                *

& Evening Star (ineffable complete

coniferous oak tree

whose almond amie

très jolie spreads acorns at her feet

into an ancient corn-maze wheel)

– O Henry, where’s

the seat of these empires?

Your throne’s only an acorn peel –

your realm a plastic kiddy chair.

Raven zigzags the gazebo –

traces Incan shadow

aslant cornices inscrutable (& bare).

Eagle or condor even higher.

Pure air (transparent)

laves the fundament.

An equal sign grounds every choir

in Lincoln-logos (quipu-fire).

Chaste diamond of snow

& Black Elk’s slow

Wakan Tanka (Vallejo-spire)

turning every way.  You’ll see

the back of me, until

you recognize Good Will

I Am.  In Red Wing country,

where grey Thunderbird came down

to meet his Galilean

twin – the two-in-one

Tom-Tom, guest-dancing (holy clown).

7.5.17

agate density

GREEN HILL

Dante nearing the end of his poem

ambled around Ravenna

under cloudy skies.  He saw

the glinting tesserae in the high gloom

of San Vitale, Sant’ Apollinaris,

yet loved best

that older cryptic nest

Galla Placidia (Empress

for a day, exile & refugee)

had plaited long before –

with panel of Jesus-Nazir

styled as Arcadian Orphée

clasping rustic David’s staff,

loafing on a green slope

shared with sleepy sheep.

He loitered, gazing at the roof-

beams, lit with swirly-interlocking

whorls of 8-point stars

surrounding one small cross

like neon phosphorus – marking

their zones of cosmic midnight blue.

The mausoleum held

no body.  The rough shell

hid its agate density from view.

Primitive angel glyphs in caves

across the planet glimmer,

lurking, waiting for her

aria of plummet-stone, through waves

                 *

of spacetime, spiraling in Dante’s ear.

Singing, bringing in sheaves

(while Ariadne weaves

her fleecy oarlocks round one salty tear).

So tesserae reform, like Gospel

beasts into one

M – a beak so aquiline

& sharp to tear the casket lid from Hell –

the shearing blade of sheep from wolf,

of infant innocence

from feral insolence,

scattering bread across a shark-tooth Gulf.

Ariadne lifts her penny whistle sign.

A chartered Paris yearns

toward heaven – burns

for shame... the Minotaur’s declension

stokes the flames, flares orange

for a time (4 times).

In the House of 4 Pines

wind-chimes supplicate one ange

d’or via strange door (subterranean).

The flute still rhymes.

The sunny shepherd climbs

a green hill toward his Galilean

Psyche-Mendelssohn.  Sibelius

ratchets his violin...

geese fly from Ravenn

into Estonian concord (a Finnish Russe).

6.1.17

engr. by Harold Sund (from Ravenna : a Study, by Edward Hutton)

round which we merry go

LIGHT GLANCES

Now, at dusk, the early lilacs

breathe out their scent.

Tired crabapple’s bent

limbs burst into a climax-

galaxy of blossoms, pink & white –

rhyming those slight cloud-

petals overhead

like Botticelli’s passionate

notations for the Paradiso

(Beatrice’s dancing

flame-spirits, candescing

in a last heaven-crescendo).

Old splendor of May-month springs

anew.  None shall judge her.

Like Osip’s meteor

flung suddenly through Saturn’s rings

Ophelia steps from a weedy break

wearing Ariadne’s crown –

grace, honor & renown

clothe her again, out of elm-book

of Primavera-life – primordial

Persephone, sharing

one diamond ring

(soul’s Solomonic seal, octagonal).

The river’s profile of limestone

reflects its lambent flow.

Each wave curls now

light glances toward one flint Person

                    *

the intellect sees through the show

of leafy cottonwood sheen

(black limbs lean toward one

point round which we merry go).

It’s personal, in a fleeting, refugee

sense, mumbles Hobo.

The stone beyond Cosmo.

The source of lightning & oak tree –

where little Henry hid one day

like Bonnie Charlie in a bole

of mossy acorn-meal.

The soul is preternatural, he say.

Soul is King, & Queen.  Mary

floresces rose, in bloom

beneath almond moon...

Hamlet, Ophelia marry.

Adamantine chair of motherlode...

gravitational pull

of con vexed out of Hell.

Adam’s evening (nails in road).

Looming in the linen of the dream,

the dawn fleece of time...

the scapegoat’s crime,

the victim’s cornerstone (walled

without seam into apex of dome).

This your chink of light

through the long jail night.

Your Camelot (milk-train kingdom).

5.5.17