Dactyls are terrible lizards that fly at the mind,
pounding their emphasis boldly, Jurassical pelicans
dipping through breakers, the roaring of others behind,
beating Tithonian wings like the rotors of helicons.
Such a great leathery creature with talons will bind
even the boldest of poets, who long for a particle,
something more gentle to bring in a beautiful line…
Dactyls deny any space for an opening article.
This poem is a paired consideration along with Hmn.
A solemn joy set Jesus on.
And if he wept for Lazarus
his clay,
how much more did the Trinity weep
when their ancient bond was sundered.
The Omniarch’s hand must have shook
as he poured out the payroll.
Even as the Christ will one day, with
sorrow and love, as the old song says,
one last time, judge for
heart breaking
propitiation.
Right, wrong, justice, grace
The world’s wages will be paid
The emnit cup be filled.
