Suspicions about Mysteries

Strap a dream to the blender
in your shark head umbrella!

It was just something they said

to have us watch a real dilemma.
For one eternal dream lives inside
that elegant miniature clockwork

of mortality’s pocket watch. But how
does one disappear into nowhere?
When you think you’re finally

somewhere, someone blows the scenery
away—when you kiss your best
lover, suddenly someone

has witched him a monster.
Night opens like a loose clam
so the dark rain pours and pours.

Yet we recognize this inexhaustible
yearning for fire in water—the same hopeless
search for a human language of feeling.
                                                            O dear
past, take a chance on a lightning bolt
blow to the head—and be the first of the last
to feel everywhere the darkness isn’t.