Poem: WILL THERE STILL BE WEDNESDAY’S AFTER THE VIRUS?

WILL THERE STILL 

BE WEDNESDAY’S 

AFTER THE VIRUS? 

I don’t want to see this movie,
this is the house where the stairs go all the way to the moon
where to step from bedroom to kitchen is to leap continents
where dimensional gateways open into realms beyond time,
and for Vincent Van Blacklight, there are always more doors,
a spiral of firefly nebulae hang above the lampshade
the trees in the garden have teeth, they mutter conspiracies,
Amethyst Moonflower spins dark matter out of nothingness
with all her confused paper structures lost in the ozone
while Daubaway Weirdsley plants moonseeds
in the basement which grow into a fruit
of Phobos, Titan, Oberon and Callisto,
the old gods are rising from the windowbox,
we are about to become immortal,
a gastric tube feeds Medusa Fannypack
a diet of ripped hobgoblin dreams,
last night I watched myself sleeping,
I know this is how it begins,
no, I don’t want to see this movie…


Featured online at:
‘MEDUSA’S KITCHEN’ (28 June 2020)
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/