Counterfeit hope.
Tangible soup.
Soundless.
Nothing tastes like sap.
Vein growth.
Crossed wire leaves.
An old salt mine.
I bet it tastes like salt.
When you have wires in your head.
You can feel condensation.
Hopeful condensation.
Soledar and a salt mine
The mine is enormous can hide an army of Ukrainian soldiers
the thousands we thought had been killed on the battlefield
The winter is arriving late in this cursed land, no snow falls
The soil doesn’t freeze its soft embrace swallows tiger tanks.
From the salt mines, the ghost army arises in the quiet clamour
to vanquish the enemy, elated is the triumph of the deluded.
Flaring fire across the grassland, harvested grain burns bright
but ghosts are forever bloodless; the world is aghast, to see
their triumph thwarted; the magic of victory was but a dream.
Acrid smoke in the scientist’s bell jar
Blankets of chenille-covered snow
Crystalline carbon diamond star
Drips forming stalactites grow
Effervescent waterfalls’ dreams
Frothy-topped cappuccinos
Gelid surfaces of lakes and streams
Halos of angels in holy repose
Icebergs splitting from their source
Jasmine-covered pergolas in Spring
Knuckles clenched in fear or remorse
Love’s purest form sobering
Mandala patterns on frosted window
Newly-born flamboyant flamingos
Opalescent lustre of pearls on show
Pineapple-licious snow cones
Quills of the porcupines’ defense
Ringlets of great-grandparents’ hair
Steamy hot springs vapor intense
Trailing wisps of London fog air
Undulating winter foothill maze
Veils of fine tatted lace purity
Wieliczka Salt Mine passageways
Xilinous spider webs artistry
Yahrzeit candle flame in memoriam
Zephyrus ballooning sails on a whim
It's summer, and it's the time
to take the train to old Saint Ives
and visit my Aunt Clementine
who lives alone by an old salt mine.
Aunt Clementine, she likes to dine
on mac and cheese at half past nine
then eats big slices of strawberry pie
while she sits and watches the fire flies.
Aunt Clementine loves polka dots
mostly orange, there's quite a lot
on walls and rugs, on kitchen tops
on her clothes and her dog named "Spot".
Aunt Clementine has crazy hair
that flies around most everywhere
while she hurries and scurries
here and there, and likes to say,
"Well, I declare!"
When she puts her lipstick on
Aunt Clementine breaks out in song
and tells me I should sing along
even if I forget or flub or FLOB
she tells me I am never wrong.
My Aunt Clementine is really fun
she certainly is not a nun
and so full of mischief
I just love to come
to be with her is double fun
in my book she is number one!
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