stars of Jubilee

DARK PILLARS

The cottonwood leaves are golden,

beaten thin by frigid air.

Graphene hearts, everywhere

now (mid-October).  What is Man?

that Thou take heed of him?

Flesh tends to disappear.

To fade – but not before

these bright medallions of seraphim

sail swiftly from the autumn tree.

Invisible beehives

of honey-gold enclaves

cluster like galaxies, ring you & me –

it is that via media,

that midway midéwé

colloquy – humbly

clustering from 6-way

crystalline antipodes – path P

of Providence, the clear

circumference (here

now & everywhere) of high Sophie.

Nerve-center of the flesh-toned bridge

uniting matière, esprit;

Venn diagram, complete

ellipse of air, water & light – edge-

mingled man-&-woman bloom,

transmuting rage & fright

with wisdom’s calm delight

to reconcilement’s sun-filled room

                  *

from midnight Minneapolis

(by way of Providence)

into your honey-dense

dawn star-forest – Cosmopolis.

Stars in the deep blue flag echo

that secret Jubilee,

when all the nations will be

reconfigured from the roots of woe

into one level plain of soul

equality & liberty.

So Salvator Mundi

implies, through Leonardo’s ball

of crystal – meek & sheepish mule

of a Franciscan king

correcting everything

with one orthogonal gesture, one smile.

Jesus is for sale at Christie’s, now;

the Earth is up for grabs

as well, it seems; crabs

gather in their gaudy, gilded scow

to celebrate the arrogance of rule;

our men of violence

fill up sad prisons,

cemeteries.  Is Man a Fool?

No... just blind.  Tall cottonwoods

stand, lean together –

dark pillars, that weather

storms of gold in planetary neighborhoods.

10.16.17

bard owl hoot-yawp

DARK MANDALA

A dark mandala, with its threads of gilt

glinting in sepulchral gloom.

Brown recluse home

or poison farm – Potemkin-built

for subtle, shady beast (forma

tricorporis umbra).

Yessir – USSR – Usura

rapt the hack machine – some worm

robbed all the banks in Hungary

– sincerely, your servant

left with Nada (she went

under).  One black-wreath memory

laurels a World War grave,

limed with gold streaks

of tears.  Leaf breaks

hearts; stubborn moth digs nave.

Infinitely gentle, infinitely

suffering thing... Rabbi,

rabbi, your symmetry

of gravity pulls toward a parapet

or pole-star magnet – anti-matter

mutter at the gate

of timespace (intricate

constellate icosahedron footpad

rabbit-patter).  Yellow gyroscope

for the lad in Ravenna,

wheeling through Gehenna

into turtleshell domicile – Hope

                   *

Diamond southern bells – milky

over Memphis, chanting

out of slave-haunt... (sling

your wide human boomerang, Psyche).

Fraud loops fey pebbles into flagging

factories, for vanity –

haughty coyote-

greed howls babble onto bragging

piles of glare – why do the notions rage?

Out of a quiet well,

a widow’s mite will tell

another rustic peony tale.  Osage

cheekbones of Lincoln-Logos shine

in the fiery human sun –

Rhodos-Colossus Woman

radars an omnipresent beryl-pine

from silver harbor.  The retrograde

cannot delay reality –

their bubble-polity

will burst (too much steel air) – a Maid

of Orleans, or Land o’Lakes

shall lead the ring-dance

in a crayon trance

& sketch a reciprocity

of snakes & ladders, golden eagles

& grey turtledoves.

The peacock fan of Love’s

dominion flares... green acorn-angles.

11.11.16