FOUR POEMS FROM RAVENNA DIAGRAM
The irony of this copper crown
I ring around your hair –
this semi-thick fiber for
yon russet-gold & windsown
filament of horsegrass seed (cold
dark axion out of chiral
superfield). Dear radio-loud
fermionic superpartner... my old
cartoon of your invisibility
is buried nearby (in the
cosmic attic, maybe).
As if I could draw your ability
to be wherever I be, Yam-Wham –
O bright magmonic tennis
gamin! (Please scan the scrim
for WIMP- or MACHO-errors, Clem.)
My silver tuning-fork, only an echo
of sea-bells (rose island
Caustic firemasterings still flow
to the stony ceiling, where his face
beams (Galilean gallery night).
Ladders, long-neck sprites,
sword planted for a crosspiece
in that sink-point copper prow...
the oldest crown of all.
A 7x7” buttermilk burial
will cradle your cranium (for now).
O king of kings, of kings... ping, ping...
mere pebble in the fountain’s
fascinatin’ facets, Hen.
Trade you my turtle for that willow thing,
pal. Love’s always on the fair side
of the sketchpad – always
2 or 3 guys,
gals (sad Millicent Pip says
so). O SYNDIA MY SYNDIA BANE
THER IN MY HART REMAINS
A PANE Madonna with Munchkin
Surrounded by Penned B-B Gun
Pullets, or Satan’s Greatest Hits
(kapustulation at Munich).
Uneasy lime the sick
& squirrmink soul... see, he vomits
worms, that Prince o’Poococks.
Nobody lubber him no mare.
He th’umptiest man-hare
in the stream – block-rovin’ avis-ox...
Your stone weigh more’n this M-
&-M, aimin’ for shore.
– Chocolish be pure
rococo-novo PIE in MY tank’s giveye, Hem.
Let us contangle this convocation
on the Plain of Explanation,
Thesis. – Mizn’t shum
the tautrope, needle, Addie Marion.
The mild idea of August, when the season
shifts down slowly
like a Susan (dark-eyed
teetering sun). & how then
untie this Cornish nut? Old man
of concrete sorrows, clay-
foot minnow-tar, so thickly
barnacled, gillied o’er wi’ tin-can
regalia... highland loading-docks
for lotos-haggles. Knot
for Gordon or McNutt
indeed! Go & tell that phlox
something greener than Macbee
be here! In humble Hubble
of autumnal sensibility... you’ll see.
Rook through the crooked mirror,
maven. Some Thanksgiving
nods in the riddling
rhizome’s kid-scrawled wisdom (barely
there). Somebody’s paw, leafing
from the aqua liner
like a buoy – slim silver
A wheel of emerald palms (Phoebus
folk-art). Very unique
linen, spun with coral eye-
drops reefed to each lifeline (outré rebus).
If I extend a handle on
diagram – & spring
an abstract of some gamelan-
hieratic chessbud’s ovoid willow-
drawings – some Abyssinian
in boxer-trainers)... Grace might go
with you, Cindy, to the well.
Fallacious, maybe, but
archaic, too. Something attic-
mitten Hittite’s southern belle’s
Ptolemy about him. Might be
the beginning of some word
or name Edwardian
Antiquaries overlooky-lookied –
crucigerous Ensigne-navvy, or
Aye-aye, Chaplain. Too heavy
& too knotty by half, Bogey-
man. O this victorious
waterfowl of senseless
adoration – peacock’s Jubilee-
midéwe dalliance! Only memory
of your hermetic lips’
vermilion... while ships
strum softly on up to Itasca (for thee).
[Henry Gould's essays and reviews have appeared in Critical Flame, Coldfront, and elsewhere. More poems from Ravenna Diagram have been published in Blackbox Manifold 12, the Battersea Review, Notre Dame Review, and West Branch. He lives in Providence, Rhode Island]
Copyright © 2015 by Henry H. Gould, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.