Lanthanum Road 4.7


The dogwood leaves fold inward, recapitulate
their early greenery, in threadbare spines
of old maroon. The book of Henry's
(lazily raftered with his playmate,

Minstrel Minister – big J). From Minnesota.
Prospecting like a tucked-in Finn, ship-bottled
in the volume of himself. Rain shuttles
through October's dangled tails (uncountable

quota). This mottled season is in unison
with the mumbled limitations of his song.
Untranslatable clicks & whistles, overlong
grackle-hubbub, veering south... someone

must save that Henry from himself
! Suspended
railroad-hoot (through distance, river-flow)
transposes into minor key; you hear the low
tootle of mourning dove, close to the ground

(again, again)... & the two of them together
(stark brass of train-trombone,
woodwind of rainbow-throat) command
retreat, retreat... back to the tether

of love's strange Nowhere – its circled square;
back to the genesis of each desire
in the quick yearning of an infant choir
(impatient sparrows, bunkered in despair

of dawn). & testaments of buried men,
& reveille for Berryman, blend in marine
vertex (or submarine) – serene
blueprint from Finnish ark (catamaran).