Teeveelerium Tremens

I see the figure on the cross
laughing
Black jerseyed
a bright-eyed orange glaring poodle
piddles on a blue silk
snarling
And by the fireplace an old bulky woman
moves from side to side
towel hanging from shoulder head bent
but never looking
she remains fire stoking
huddling
Now a world comes into sight
and a globule explodes into light
and a flight of unknowns pass through
a windjammer
Another tower of Babel television mast
stretching into infinity yet finite
by its wretched onlookers
The three-pronged spire is likewise
a mass of Shakespearean mauves
spotting the blue

R. W. Kerr