Root

Father, for the Slovaks, works

I still believe that
almost none compete
(Hail Henry J., the Duke)
The hard helix of his hands
Holds any promise
Heart can make to head

Ad hominem they could not come
But mountain was mightier than man
Master of machines, the oldest magus
Maker of the world
he still serves
Malgré du mal

Trunk and root
Beget
reality more real
Ad rem—and yet
with branch and fruit
Together
ready, set
Ils lèvent la tête au ciel