ovals over pyramids

WAKAN TANKA

That poor man’s body frozen in the snow

at Wounded Knee.

Big Foot, mistaken for somebody

else (Sasquatch?  Goliath?).  Into

the valley of the shadow goes, Raven.

Wisdom & humility,

twin sisters.  See

how the old chief aches for comprehension.

Forbearance, mutual understanding,

peace.  In short supply

fallen under Assyria –

out in the sticks (Badlands), freezing.

When flour’s ground, small insects too

are crushed.  Bullish philosophy

for young rough riders, bloody

with their ba-ball clubs (Yankee, Hindu).

Boys ape men’s wars for an inheritance.

The monarch, meanwhile, churns

reptile venom – earns

replication in a prairie sundance

all the way to Mexico.  A delicate

sword fight with Judy Hotchkiss

(deadly bees taken amiss

lead Rachel down to Sheol, Juliet)

ends in snowballing massacre

the day after (frozen

conclusion).  Take me away

from these scenes, black star

                *

of harvest moon – bury them in trench

to hide the crying shame

of unquenched hell-flame

(mustard kiln rank with lime-stench).

Eyes frost over.  Hopelessness

of dauber’s art.  Oddly

placed boulders, hardly

balanced on the tip of mysterious

20th century placement & weathering.

Glazed over enough, yah?

Giotto’s all the cry

now, Cimabue – gag order on that thing

hung over the Capitol (New Glum).

Crowds trading places

for a view of the races

at State Fair (Human Bird-Hum).

Awake, Russia!  Make America

Great Again!  Nation

shall lift gas station

against nation – fail, Columbia!

Everything is inside out, & there’s

the Salamanca forest

for recalcitrant peacocks.

Even so.  This grey pebble, this

kamen soldier, simple carpenter

might open just one eye

in palm of clay hand, see –

check the hoary Isis river-

                *

level, placed like a Franklin Bridge

between twin banks.

Through airy arc (thanks,

Saarinen) soars prairie Wind-Wedge

(spooky Manitou’s whole altar).

She’s not a Ghost Dance,

she’s an entrance-trance –

a way of weighing Light Feather

against your heavy heart (soul-

sorrow).  Lake Victoria

or little Lake Itasca

spring to mind – Madonna del

Parto – light-skipping lamp-sheep

traipsing grass mosaic

in shade-sketch (archaic

camera oscura).  Black Elk sleeps

& dreams.  Big Foot & Wounded Knee

& Buried Heart &

Yearning Soul & Mind

lift from that heap of yesterday...

light feather-memory.  Young one

be strong, be good,

be not afraid.  World

law of gentleness is airy crown –

breeze breathing through the universe

bestowing life upon

worried monkeys – sun-

heart of Wakan Tanka (Jesus-nurse).

7.13.17

broody engraving

HIGH WATERSHED

As when a song transposes suddenly

into more stringent chords

the charismatic words

Dante-Apollinaire relay

from salty mud-flats of Ravenna

hungry Parisian streets

emerge with copper rivulets

of Mississippi calumet – that gateway

mound out of the bottomland

that mundus in a grove

or Okie Argo alcove

up from rustling bronze riverbend.

A pileated woodpecker

with fiery crest drives

toward dread beehives

of Annie Oakley – checkmates her

bull’s-eye – knocks at the door

of sharpshooter & target

as she drills toward

his dragon-beak of pain & blood, for

leafy harvest-time of bread & wine 

(ripe honey-gold high meed

poured out of night   freed

goldfinch   slipped from nest of twine).

So Thunderbird laced the perimeter

like one ghost dancer over

one ghost kingdom.  Power

flickered from its lightning center

                *

& with spark of recognition

the Life-whirr dove across

an abyss of non-existence

wakening green acorn nation

to restoration of all things

as it was in the beginning

ever shall   beginning

with your soul & mine.  The king’s

a monarch like Melchizedek

alighting on a milkweed

whose electric feed

mauve candelabra Shaker-speak

& lift the everlasting seed

to drift on orange wings

& ange d’or strings

to azure Gates   high watershed

for humble mule-servant   that beggar’s

beggar   slave’s life-saver

huffy Hen’s   broody engraver

Elijah’s raven   bearing messages

like crumbs of hope   for dying prophets

thirsting by the stream

to hear the pure Dream-

Songe   of limpid safety-nets

where rivers stream toward glory

in the salt infinity

one sarabande soul-tree

of beaming suns   their wake of Victory

7.11.17

all aboard the Midnight Sun

FROM MEMPHIS

O Lady walking by, in black

jacket & yellow skirt,

you lift me from inert

& vacant thought into a way-back

memory-milieu.  The Promised Land

of sunlight at midnight

is nest for monarch flight

& viceroys too (you’ll understand

when we get there).  The Milkweed King

is Hobo in disguise –

the motherland is prize

for steady Jim (gone huckleberrying

with Oblomov).  He walks gently

into rabid disputes,

young Nanabozo – toots

his horn – Rabbi-clown, my

Hiawathee Bigfootprints

of Peace; he’s taken down

in order to rebound

into renown, like Printemps

Spring-Rain Joan, or Franny Cricket

(she of jingling anklets

in the cedar dusk).

There’s earthy scent beneath the musket;

there’s a penny in the well.

A dinged wingèd profile

traipses from the Nile –

elopes from Memphis (into Israel).

6.1.16