Behold! A snowball in hell
Next to a burning lake.
Down in Hell, the temperature
Begins to fall. A few fires start
To freeze and the next thing you know
It’s like Vermont down there.
Pine trees jut through pillars of flame,
Lava stiffens to a beautiful road,
A few sturdy boulders actually crack
Like walnuts, and the Mourning Fields
blanket with snow. Sisyphus punches
An old timeclock and walks straight out the door.
The usual crowd of poets builds
A little shelter under a shadow’s shadow—
And suggests we call this “The Comedy.”
poet and academic from Lancaster, USA.
started 1 MAY 2010 email : email@example.com
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