88-89   Doing Double-Time + 1

As small trees emerge from the darkness     so
I wanted to anchor your hope     with a mother poem
& as the voice of     one of the daughters of J² goes
steering across a never-never mirror     home

beneath the memories     I wanted that star     at last
where it belongs     in UNION with     my shivering heart.
I'm cold     iced eyes are eyeing us     the mast
is burning 3 springs back     I cannot write no more

& yet your calm     queen-star-spangled fingers     fly,
& satisfy my mouth     (that is but dust & grass)
with eagles' fare,     token     of your vast     pacific sky--
have wrung deep oaths     your kingdom come     to pass

into the hands of children     this long gift
may come to mean     what it was meant to be

& from the sceptered greenhouse     there might drift

a glory     glory     hallelujah     victory
go ricochet--     new-minted     pennyroyal frisbee     -- swift

cardinal draft     afloat     upon flushed chambers now:
high ceiling     lofted with     the midnight sun
Lenore on carpet ride     &     Poe in tow
a winged     clay fireboat museum--     hurricane--

& Hamlet's maiden voyage     waxed for snow
will hang there,     pensively,     & mimic you (turning
ample     apple     pear-shaped     seedling choir,
& ringing     curving out of sight)--     the river far below

where,     garnering the dust     (so evident, so visual)
the summer mansions pulled us     both upstairs,
& fire-trees     storked us free at last,     & all
sheepdog creation woofed     my deep-dyed,     wide-warped airs.

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Henry Gould | Scattered Bells & Whistles
Contents | Mudlark No. 6