An Effigy Of Laughter

an effigy of laughter.

through each stray yet unearthed as seldom is.

it would seem all time transparent

through a summer's day

where shows no more a logic

than the apple trees and hay;

our weather breathes no politics.

there are fourteen sticks pointing sideways

to the dark side of the sun.

I have shrunk the size of a teaspoon in a well

but still it swells,

this hell that sells itself where angels dwell;

yet again I smell the onoins of your heart.

we are dear but yet departed through the red meat and the clay.

but still it grows

the white horse flowing free-verse to the panic of a wave.

there are words and nothing else

where two worlds speak of prophecy and gloom

but still no room to roll the rocks

of Eden in her pregnancy with daffodils in bloom;

no climate change will satisfy this curse,

or satisfy the salsify with her cotton-buds and broom.

bride and groom

satanic verse's show their guns at noon.

there is a second eye

that tells us where we are.

we are seagull grey

but still our mountains move;

and it is true

our dearest friend

our Socrates has wed?