Invocation

Mike Fink. John Henry. Paul Bunyan. Casey Jones.

As though the wilderness in which these names forged their meanings has now grown

back

over the names impenetrably obscuring paths once cleared by salted rivers of sweat;

or perhaps

the wilderness is all disappeared? Wooded groves which harbored heroes now part,

reveal

horizons, and no figure larger than ordinary; no monsters in the rocky, fjord-like

crenellations

of the coast: sea heaves its sighs and strums its finger along the tight drums of

the rocks,

a tune that summoned the male muses, once, these waves that break their own

hearts.