Kristyan Panzica
www.janandkristyan.com/kristyan/
SANGREOLI
SEMPRE LA ROSA MISTICA
SANTA VIRGINE
MADRE SENZA CULPA
REFUGIO DEI PECCATORI
REGINA DEI PECCATORI
REGINA DELA FAMIGLIA Y DELA PACE
MADRE DEL SALVADOR
DEL FIGLIO SENZA CULPA
EVVIVA SANTA MARIA Y JESÚ
seering aura hymns of earth enfranchised by sun
over dark igneous convolutions seven-fold
sea family as harmonious animus of composite goddess
inverted Vedic fruit tree branches
through Tyrrhenian blueness to gray slopes
terraced for ancient wheat
Bacchus harranguing Priapus
distilling god-ridden dreams
Sophacles' plays survive pantheistic empires
in Sicilian tyrant fury
reign of Dionysos
intrepid Taormina amphatheater stones
giving way to Roman red-brick barricades between man and
nature
mere echo of Caesars' law transported north over Vie
Apie
escape of seven islands between Trinacrian and Etruscan
shores
embedded in local lingo communion
between Saracen and Norman towers
united in casual eruptions
beauty emerging from rage
Sirens riding Sahara-born winds
brilliant September afternoon unregistered
Valviamare hydrofoil diverted from Capri to Cefalú
to Lípari
where Lacrima Christe del Vesuvio spills
in the Marina Corta cafe
from anonymous civilized season
to furrow-bred heiress limping
from underrated hotel
eyes for both pedigree and rough trade
value one to five star
obsidion-phallus frankness
Figlie di Madonna terazza visage Vogue cover compliant
though half a planet from sleek Navajo-NezPerse smile
abandoned by the Danish maidens
as they swim out of the Piscina de Venere
enter the regal salt water pool brocaded by patrician toes
chapters in Camelleri tales and Sciascia exposés:
internecine partimony and Our Ladies of Perpetual Intrigue
spell broken by the shrill chirping of a cell phone
the virtual messiah has accessed the cool feline spa glitter
and the jazz ballads issuing from speakers in the
ballustrades
better almond necátole and pistachio mimosa:
pastries taken with cappuchinos
beside Diana's volcano-cone breasts
piercing sulfurous warlock lips thin as sardine net cord
scent of lemon and jasmine
inspire mother and daughter enterprises
inns and bungled assasinations
pilgrimages and silhouettes
banter of fishermen
A light year past the debt
Eaten one midsummer
Beside dusty attic windows,
She discourages the meadow
Where a lark sings sunshine,
Where curdling frosts drive dreamers
From Cascade-slope orchards.
All phrases bathed in
iridium oasesWhere her sacramental sutras
Flower in zigzagging streams.
IN WOLFMAN'S FACE
Clarinetist Marshall Royal's solo was leaping
from the radio
of a Chevy Malibu climbing
from the Death Valley oven
on Route 127 East.
Within ten miles of Beatty, Nevada,
pony-sized quadrupeds loomed in the oncoming lane
and in all but a foot of the horror-gripped driver's
plus the two more feet of dirt shoulder
he'd been forced into
by the nearest languid equine innocence.
Though the unfazed interlopers one'd be loathe to batter
and the steel box over V-8 engine and wheels were intact,
the local Christian Network had usurped his jazz.
In town,
the only folks he saw were two whiskered drifters -
there not to console him,
there simply to take up the two-man bench
in front of the mobile home facing a Casino.
The trembling traveler entered amid the roar of slot machines,
sat in the cafe,
and sighed, "A Bud, thank you."
The waitress had returned
and he'd confided through to a wheezed in, "Why me?"
She explained,
"Them wild burros've been around since the mining days.
You're lucky you're not dead or covered with guts
like the gent on the motorcycle
who drove straight through one-a them critters."