Wheelbarrow Of Hard Work
Wheelbarrow Of Hard Work
© Surazeus
2026 09 17
To find out how my body was transformed
by the gossamer ghoul with thirty eyes
who lives on highest mountain of the moon,
I stroll downtown among the lunchtime crowd
and give my heart to every soul I meet,
who each plucks one feather from my fake wings.
Since nothing that ever happens depends
on the rain-glazed wheelbarrow of hard work,
I stand on street corner of Fear and Hope
to watch the blinking traffic light all day
till I begin to float into the sky
because I forget the true name of God.
Strange children I have never met before
steal glass masks from museum of dead gods,
then ask me with weird voice of secret rain
if I know the way to Sesame Street,
so I point to the camera on the pole
that records writhing rainbows of the soul.
I go through glass doors of the Spirit Bank
and ask if I can withdraw with Dream Key
enough credits from my psychic account
to buy the latest pair of angel wings
that Icarus designs in his workshop
because I want to explore the galaxy.
Climbing the stairway to Heaven nine years,
I whistle merry tunes of innocence
about my lonely Brickleberry Friend,
then stand before Odin on jeweled throne
and ask for job as scribe in Hall of Dreams,
presenting my credentials on silk scroll.
When Odin gives me most important job
of washing dishes for the Feast of Gods,
I walk through Valhalla with humble pride,
where Achilles and Sigmund drink and laugh,
to join Lucifer in the kitchen hall
where we talk about the magic of lamps.
After I finish work just at midnight,
I stroll above Tintern Abbey some few miles
to find Minerva on banks of the Wye
where she translates murmur of mountain-springs
to cosmic prophecies in arcane code
which I transcribe as psychic formulas.
If beauteous forms that manifest Dream Glow
in conscious bodies of organic hope
shine with immortal absence of my love,
then I shall pose in studio of glass skulls
for author photo on my latest book
which I toss in the Well of Melusine.
surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…
Orpheus steps outside the back of Valhalla to smoke after working twelve hours washing dishes for the endless feast where Zeus and Jesus arm-wrestle for dominance.
#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism