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i.m. Joseph Bernardin & Meridel Le Sueur
A strange fortitude hovers over the fort
this morning spangled pupils aim for the black
holes in bunkered irises: with a bark
a virtual Putnam keys a command: Foursquare alert!I had a dream last night I was talking
to a poisonous spider like a little white ball
rolling toward me-- he was the King of Milk
in the murk of a cedar cellar & he swirled,
ALMA among his lambs amid a UNION
swathed in silver pennies & Chicago cardinalsFrom you, for you, with you shall not
perish though the sword rose in sorrow
& bitter to the taste-- each coin farmed out to the river
turned copper and rusted in your streambed heart
Henry Gould | Island Road 31
Contents | Mudlark No. 6