Lanthanum Road 4.2


The crossweave in the melancholy train-chord,
plangent, distant. Not unison yet, but the one
and the other, making harmony. The oval
red and green leaves of a shuttering dogwood –

one color with the other, calmly aglow now
beneath gray clouds. The curious heart-
signals sleepy Henry tries to interpret –
sign-language, leaf-muttering, slow

autumn breeze... the one and the other –
old question-and-answer, call-and-response...
Martha and Mary, Williams and Blackstone,
listening, doing. Knot of the dreamer

by rose-flecked seashore. Twine of Black Sea
binding Maximus, his hardy, rooted taking-stock
before the Mother of Good Maiden Voyages
(almond prow on New World promontory

– strife-torn turf). The total vision
a triangulation – compass, rudder, mast
afloat upon a void of whispered trust –
still star above wind-wagon ballast (son

and mother and their Magdalen-logos).
The old design whispers to Henry, he gets
the drift of dogwood leaves. His Hobo waits
in river-sand, by a railway bridge, a drifter's

flute-call smoking from his lips. A tuning-
fork in the middle of the country surges
its upward wing; anonymous Pocahontas
reels around, with a rock in her sling.