poem: [Fell off Dante, the ground was harder than I thought]

[Poem inspired by a line from the Nebula Girl and a rough fall . . . ]

Fell off Dante, the ground was harder than I thought,
Dismal maritimes in these dying days
Italian cadences rhyming
the ridges In my head,
circling fires
The exquisite surprise of
fire and ice
ridicule of the western slopes
hiding the ancient ways
we seem so far gone
when the half-sized minds
echo the final dialing down,
final dialtones you
miss in your frenzy to equestriate
your life to the barely living,
rounding chasms best left unsaid
she was a quandary, an abyss,
pas de deux of commiserating dragons
in the nestled eye
sliding down a river of doom
the wastrel gods
in search of food and home
their last mermaid selves
so much more than what
they bargained for
the miserable little experiments
tinkering in the woodshop
I carved an eden,
sez the one,
& the plenties answer
In banal chorus to the hallelujah babies
Crying terror crying
Misguided simplicity
Crying the endless dimes
Excuses middened
In gorgeous green Mystery,
tax tables
of the hobbled saints.