John Milton Soars

John Milton soars over the earth weeping
salty unadulterated joy, which
turns into white letters on black paper:
writing a poem about his exploits

while engaged in them, but he does not stop.
Now John is higher than God's favorite
bow-tailed kite, than Jesus' golden locks.
His tears reach the tomb of Christ as well as

major air currents in the midwestern
United States during the depression,
as well as the hearts and minds of millions
in his home town of Hell, Los Angeles;

but he knows, deep in his swollen humors,
that they are only tears and only words.