Coming 'round again, Part 3

9.

His styrofoam cup of juice, 

and plastic bag of odds and ends.

Mary told me that it was my idea, 

that reality was just 

everything there was, 

and Bob 

said it was all GoOD, and

so I thought you meant--

we always knew ThIS?

Well, that created enough 

of a WoRlD to operate in -- here 

again as PaRt

TwO, So what else 

do we need to 

keep going

again here see it doesn’t 

really matter what 

one especially 

Jack, Achilles, or Crispin, 

thinks, Oh, and everyone's forgotten 



10.
Achilles,
he was home,
he had a table,
 the relics sat upon it
through the streaming seasons 

of snow and lightening, ice and pouring 
thunderstorm, the wind 
that snapped 
the Cottonwood.
Jack had planted it ten years ago now.

The Hat. The Sneakers, The Walking Stick,
that cow’s pelvis, 
a strange narrative
and some Sunflowers 
He’d dug up along the road,

and Jack draped the prayer flags
over it all.
Crispin couldn’t remember any more 
Why they had chased out 
that heroic fella,

Crispin no, 
I think Achilles, 

 or was it, Siddhattha 

Gotama boy or
that other one--

the cycle 
was coming round, 

and down

and the hand,
and the birds flew,



11.
planets gathered,
peacocks, cried
the grackles glint, 
the 8 bells,
waving to America’s lost poem.

It was all about the Hero, 
In The SuN.
to Crispin, 
the weather, my mirror, 
Jacks upper lip

Ha! his dress and 
GauDy SunFloWeRs.
the Sun was at Noon, 
that height, 
and Heaven 

was an Idea, 
worth a line
in Poetry, what ever you called it.
All things passed,
and it gave a color 

to the exploit,
falling, 
curling wave,
continuing, fall to tripod 
and Thetis 

touch to forehead, seeing 
the Aspen eyes, 
silent and blinking
all tumbling into western sunset 
of wild lagoon, 

and glimpse of blue,
dreamed of, 
seeking surface 
to relate it to climbing
zoDiAc

12.
turning
rising sun, spinning earth, 
solar, wind 
He’d see the moon coming up 
and remembered 

the last evening too
Venus was there beneath
in the south or was that Jupiter
it all returned
from a deeper deep 

grasping for a, surface
Boon!
and Just to See and wondering 
what did that mean?
It WaS aLL OrDerEd aRound.

as it looked here, 
a decorated thing,
musical chairs 
changing places, it was 
Crispin’s new poem 

and it was getting late. 
Jack was whittling it 
it kept changing shape 
he’d chop here and chop there,
How could he decide 

on the importance of this over that?
Wasn’t that part of the rigor
to decide 
again in a second thought
the Authority of--