Luminous Great Mass

Holy Trinity Airship billows a chrys- elephantine cave Louis Sullivan, Arch- itect, lord master, conceived of in the hollow of power. He swells. I am his balloonist balancing an azimuth as earth-apse I orbit, robed in hot gas & leather fastened by a yolk-stalk of gravity to gold- end onions nozzling heavens whose suns are stomachs with churches in their navels. Each we are priests as aeronauts at the vestibules, & enter the cavity: space, self, organ; celest- ial nave bellies stars sailors name saints and adore— their egress is bitter weeping, their praise pure Russian form: a cathedral, my inner orrery.