Ode To a Ridiculous Joke

O ridiculous joke, you are
carved in stone more grand than time
and space, as they
are all over the place, and you
are just here, just here; that's
it.

O ridiculous joke, you milk
some laughter from my heart and mind
which is put in a tower by the sea
and will be there eternally, in some
form or other, depending, but
there is nothing stranger than to laugh
the heavy stones of infinite and
towering mystery
so hugely crushing and religiously
and sexually perfected
like flies.

O ridiculous joke, you ride out
in waves of herds of gentlemen and ladies
in velvet liquors of nickel
of sad work and hokey words
dumber than spit, that is God's fire itself
in heaven like Blake, the motorcycle
of green horse tongues
reading a newspaper on the
crapper of names, Nemo,
his good wife bible of ancient
dinosaur waltzes making a
stew of infinite and
towering meanings like
God, Justice, Joke, Spit, and Ode
to a ridiculous joke, how like a
fist of jollity in the eye, and
inconceivably able and
proud your frame
so monstrously beautiful
and impeccably
molecular as presence beyond
definition by overly mysterious
herds of whatever
wandering forever in this
bleak and shining mystery
of gas-like songs careening
in white angel's teeth
blacker than coal for ancient
Pteradactyl tile factory,
Zone of Yoda Cendrars Centaur blazing
like plaques hung with
wildly careening runes tone,
Napoleon Halloween Sangoma
of Blonde Witch Tires
of ghettos of dark bibles of
aughing ridiculous ironies
of iron cicadas who tell
jokes to herds of spit
Spit like Spit is the Cobra of God's
Infinite Towering Mystery Joke Kit
in the prairie. O, nothing is
stranger than strangers,
when in all this mystery,
WE ARE THE ONLY
MACHINES OF GRACE
called fire of breath
or little rain donkey made of
wind bibles listening
to jokes so sad as symphonies,
white calabash mother,
Blake foetuses in your cockpit nipple
apocalypse lunar lander jet shrine collodeon,
you enter the Beard of Blake's
darke wandering fly bible
and will be there eternally,
laughing at this stone thimble
house encyclopedia of laughless
chuckwagon sun thongs singing any
or whatever it might be
tomorrow or some

Ode To a Ridiculous Joke.