We see earth; a quandary of skewed parameters.
Flippant passing lanes flipping-off red lights.
A larghissima rotunda: unique, timeless, beautifully
scored but rootbound, frangible on its push-me
pull-you spindle. Flatulent from breech births.
A crescendo of sostenuto tympani chords and paid-
forward promissory notes. We gather as pilgrims
in tempera-colored almshouses, contrite as rogue
monks offering marzipan oblations and almond
chest milk to waif children. We grope stained glass
at Casa de la Caritat. We believe. Still, nature
is not confined by her terrain to an orb of cloud-deck
shadows. Faith is ambient light and louvered patinas.
Shimmed cornerstones. Mustard seeds—ceded mountains.
An unseen loving cup, half-full of blossom scent.
Somewhere along the River Euphrates, in the garden
of good and evil, the ghost of Juan Ponce de Leon
possessed the serpentine tongue of an emerald python.
He told the Moorish tale of an everafter fountain
formed by strange tides and divers’ tidings,
where red flamingos panned for watercress, scarlet
parrots preened their plumes in the refilled Cup of Christ,
forbidden fruits dined on flesh without conviction,
and fabled springs foretold the lies of each inquisitor.
is from Kansas and Oklahoma. He now lives and writes in South Carolina. His work has been nominated for Best of the Net, Best New Poets, and three times for The Pushcart Prize, and has appeared or is forthcoming in a number of publications including Raleigh Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, Beecher’s Magazine, Crannóg, and Mixed Fruit. His fourth chapbook of poetry, Chronicles, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2012.