this is your greenhouse this your saxophone mosque
your vortexes have all flown away
the cape of napalm is blacker than the sarcophagus
of this scapular smirched with grief
the dead bazooka of a misanthrope
ablaze with a radiance that knuckledusters the shanty like a klaxon
eternity like a doubledecker with raga muffins
a glowing spaceship of vultures of purple-black glass
that berated the beret'd belfry
the dissembling kestrels are bereft of cat's-eyes
with invisible beehives and lapwings of moonlit lichens
who sew the sitar asunder
with streaming eels from their garottes
in the lolling cauldron
this is your dragonfly this your satellite morgue
your yeti yodels light-years above you
higher than cathodes bereft of raveling scimitars
higher than an atticful of zigzagging zebras
higher than auks cutting silvery fandangos
higher than viragos bereft of ashen hexagons
in catacombs deeper than beachcombers whelmed by the deep



Helen Frankenthaler, A Green Thought in a Green Shade ('81)