O big zebra-striped cicada
with the Air Force wings
found adrift this morning
in Sophie’s baby-purple wading
pool – can I identify with you?
Or maybe only your husk
was left behind. Ask
Jonah in his whale, or Zarathustra
in his Cyrus-shade (serene
of the Yezidi-martyrs
on their mountain. Savage scene
of human inhumanity
today. The mimic-men
love Mickey Mouse – then
spool to hate such levity;
they kill what they deny (themselves)
persecuting poor Me
in the name of purity –
pure folly (petty peevish dwarves).
I’ll circulate the prose Popeye
instead. A sailor-sketch
of Pappy in his ketch
(the Pope, perhaps?). Only the sigh
of Peacock Angel – delicate thread,
goldfinch trompette marine...
yet you sense what I mean :
bright Joan – ah! – surfing from the dead.