elysian fields

We would know within eight minutes

if the sun died.

I was in elysian fields

composing poetry,

singing, dancing,

tending to my chariots.

Earth made a whole rotation

before I knew the son’s light had gone out.

My world shattered as a prism explodes white light

into a kaleidoscope of confusion.

Kafka’s cockroach metamorphosed into

firstly Carroll’s rabbit, and then the manxome foe.

The canvas stretches and twists – did you know that?

So for the time mirrors were cracking and absurdity reigned

I stood by the Tumtum tree and listened to the Jabberwok burble.