For Charles Fort
Doomed!
Says True Science, Almighty;
Still we come:
The lost.
Heretics, madmen,
Mummies, magicians, and yet more,
That move in your night terrors.
Respectable fools,
As long as darkness lasts,
The abyss will cry for faces: ours.
Gyres
Whirl in maddening circles
'Round her, while
Words wend
Their way into form.
Back of it all, the medium
And the message (ferried from spirits
Through billowing
Cursive) will stir hearts, as
Sirens stirred Penelope's spouse.
What
On earth is that? Odd manna
Falls, yes; still
Not with
Enough frequency
To let the spirit be at ease
On our tilt-a-whirl planet;
But thanks mandalas!
Perched high on weird tripods
You’ve told me this: light still lives here.
For Tom Porter
My elder
On
The land, thank you.
Thoughts
And emotions mesh
Like dewdrops on a tobacco leaf;
I know
You don't shift the pattern...
Rather it shifts you;
Prayers fly up;
Our failures also
Go to the Spirit, spiraling
Skyward in a circle, a great web
Wound from thanks, hopes and pipe-smoke.