So Janus comes, two-faced & torn
like split Siamese
Dioscuri – full of unease.
The sun (low orange after-burn
flailing to keep from sinking down).
Not President, not King,
but some other Something
wobbling like egg inside a crown –
Huffer-EZ Beast, out o’th’slime.
Trumpeting his name
in blocks of guilty flame,
a mountaineer of lofty crime.
Apocalypse Now was a bad movie.
Calypso (soeur of Circe)
kep’ sous in her purse
for just such a very groovy
way of passing the Gol’mighty Buck
to Time. MAMMON FOR SALE.
Everybody turn pale,
turn tail... rabbit-tracks in the muck.
Don’t try t’cross the radiant Kremlin.
Its flush rust-orange flare
steal into every corner
of the dacha, like kitchen gremlin
or turquoise exhaust. They know your name.
They don’t like your move.
The knight’s in a groove
off L-shaped Room – Lucky Vadim
or Gimpy Natasha (pseudonym
for Czech Mate, starring
Leslie Caron). Bring
him in for questioning. Da. Hyim.
True jealousy is Kremlin green.
Not copper, like that lady
bugged with epilepsy,
aboriginal Macadamia (aquamarine)...
The fire in heaven – constellation
of a million little candles –
leaves no left handles
on the lofty candelabra. Station
by station, ring by rung, the bell
drones Baselitz (b-flat)
inverting chasmic fiat –
Everywombat’s hurtling medieval
(Fiore Scandal – Foundling
Raptor for Swaddling –
Closed) perplexes simian
foundations. Eye sore to grub.
A peacock circumference
welds magnitudes into one cherub –
angel, messiah... ghost dance
figure for yearning.
Navvy Jonah musta fling
her sweet life-saver (mickle glance).