John Florio’s Heroic Poem

Inside the very moment that the moon changes

             regathering itself

             slice by white slice

is an assembly.

A meeting of the bones in stillness.

With a bare greeting

the old men

         stooped from great bearing

and the apes

acknowledge their conjunction.

   also

Someone grind the meal. Get

that root for their morning wine.

Look! A robin red-breast

dainty as a plum.

Now the artist needs red.

The sick hawk

totters in its wisdom

sympathizes with redness

thinks it stupid to banquet

on winter wheat

under the whole world’s hanging eyebrows

when war is likely.

   also

It was quiet changes

the size of dust.

Our new masters

will not

their voices

raise.

Advised darkly

to insert a fish

of difference

and sell what’s sacred.

Permitted by May

the rose opens:

the rose closes.

   also

Nobody escapes herbs.

Even Helen’s bright tears

extended into lances

to warm a cold stomach

and let the wind out

whosht.

But laserwort is gone for good

last seen leading a miniscule crab

on a leash out of the forum

a perfected argument.

   also

In the finished picture

the old heroes

keep moving about

        if they hadn’t

the gloom of choice.