Henry R. Williams (bio)

A Seppuku Along the Banks, A Footprint

Briefer rests on edges of broken rocks
& mal crested sandstone
                                                 forgetful of chalk
blue wages, an unprepared
ledgers ill-informed lines tapering into
oblivion
                          the organ, drums & flower rum
a folk set jettisoned at approach; the speed’s
need a lighter vacuum to hold
these pressed palms & prayer.
                                                        Fyodor was not
a ghost of monument, a great what-if to
action, resonant among lost copper
wheels of Herodotus. A handful
of lightning, flash like a tiglon
                                                    exotic
but useless, outside the grasp of
actual needs, we see him where
the clematis grew, a sprout from scarred seed, fumbled
thru avian entrails to acid induced germination
like mythomania & the birth of paranoia.