Boding the he'd-have-said Church, and: Song of the Andoumboulou: 177

—"mu" one hundred fifty-seventh part—

BODING THE HE'D-HAVE-SAID CHURCH

 Plain Anne, unprepossessing ma-   donna. Sat yoga-legged in thesycamore tree. Wore cutoff jeans                                                  up   which a glimpse could be got- ten. Plain queen, pale intensity, he'd  have said, Euro-conflicted, Huff                                                  who'd  have given an arm not to be thathe…Thus the he'd-have-said recen-  sion continued, what was no noun                                                  but seeming so, true circumference. True  north had it been out of it we com-menced, congregated, soon-come insur- gency's writ's damped hymnal, the                                                  body  of the building of the church…Weworked from scratch, nails and knuckles  in the dirt before we knew it, the body                                                  ofthe building of the church, unsuspecting  acolytes, said to have said he'd have said, unaware of it, congregants ready or                                                  not. The certainty of death, he'd have said,  gave it all a new lightness, the he Huffwould've given an arm not to be, the                                                  chap-  el he'd read about pink and white inraw light, circumference he needed both to put around…Lifted it out of itself,                                                   weput in, thumbs under the dirt. Autochtho-  nous amen corner. Caroling suture,                                                  cho- rusing re-mit

 The Bodhi tree's remanding of the  body of the church, the buddingof the body of the He'd-Have-Said Church, not uncommon beauty the                                                  true beauty he'd have come to attest…The body of the building of the church an eventual exit. Flawed common                                                  body,  common torso, head, limbs…Not uncommon body boding flaw, true  churchical base…Erotic-elegiacstitch…The biding of her time he'd                                                  have called his millenary church. Plain  Anne's wan mien, stout bone, splitwish. His a fool's bidding, she'd've                                                  said… The body of the building of thechurch it all redounded to, boding of the good or bad news…The body                                                  of the church what he'd have said'sbuilt-in demise, what he or she'd                                                  've said's built-in de-mise

 The building of the body of the  he'd-have-said church. Fraughtmouth, faint kiss, Queen Anne                                                  he'd  have called her. Blood rushbelied her having none of it, turn- away cheek lit up with it, flush,                                                  a  slap it could almost have been.Roundabout, winding their way in, she'd have said, the baiting                                                  ofthe body of the keep-away church,  steal-away wound into it as well… By all accounts plain but Queen                                                  Anne  he'd have called her, excited onlyhe saw her so. A later self wanting to redeem it, he would tell himself,                                                  re-  live it what he'd really mean…Worshipful regard he'd come out and call it. He'd have drunk from a cup                                                  she spat in, so wanting to get a taste of her tongue. He'd have scratched at  her heels, revered her feet, subterra-nean romance's way with him unmet,                                                  work- aday reluctance the creed he'd preach  against, Queen Anne plain jane,Queen What's-Her-Name…Reticent                                                  at  first, Queen Anne over time, thisthe millenary chapel or church…Over time red cheeks, fared nostrils, fired                                                  up, such the he'd-have-saidchurch

 Brushed by low-lying leaves on  Lone Coast. Scratched at thesurrounding earth like cats, tree                                                  trunks  leglike, tree meat white as milkthe covering of their skin eucalyptus bark…Some symbolic equation                                                  they  connived and cohered in. Com-mon body binding wind and car- tilage, about which there'd be no                                                  end of their goingon

SONG OF THE ANDOUMBOULOU: 177

—neoplatonic arpeggio—

Stood at the rail overlooking Lone  Coast. Stood, he'd have said, onthe far side of things. Lay on the floor,                                                  he'd have said, looked up her tomboydress. Relived, he'd have said, the day honey went granular, a bay leaf                                                  in the coq au vin cut like a sword,everyday detail hummed…Inside...