Reverse engineering a sureal Eden

Reverse Engineering a Surreal Eden. To grow a mountain, - - - - - right! In, an old jam jar, yeh right! Of clean soil, Soil! Isn’t that soiled? Such a seed could be, soiled and would be exclusive; Perhaps part time growing in window box? May save the roof? No rain mind, just a tarry dim sun, Breezed by a filthy wind ; alone! in its eroded scraggy day, while expanding, a different slice of the colour green. Pushed skywards, it all looks the same! What about Apples and Snakes? and our engineered countryside, of plastic and glass, filling allotments, with mirrors for the gods! And soured bogs. Eyes only open at jar breaking time Its stop tap, but no tap to stop, too late, And – the mountain? We shall keep it Under the bed, so it can’t be seen.