The fire curtain parts.
A stage on screen.
The headless Queen of Hearts
will kiss our feet.
We don’t have to touch.
We can’t be seen.
Is it minor? Is it major?
Is it meant to mean
anything at all?
Is that my head on the wall?
Is it minor? Is it major?
Is it meant to mean
our Adamwork is done
in the subsidising sun?
Ain’t no mountain high enough!
Ain’t no valley deep enough!
Ain’t no curtain iron enough to damn the flood!
Ain’t no crashed El Al!
Ain’t no Kapital!
Ain’t no Kenny Lay corrupt enough to stay.
The ice-nibbed summit
of Mountain Everest (in Tibet)
is (strange but so) composed
(as far as it is known)
of marine limestone.
Ain’t no mountain high enough!
Ain’t no valley deep enough!
Ain’t no curtain iron enough to kill the flood!
Ain’t no crashed El Al!
Ain’t no Kapital!
Ain’t no Kenny Lay corrupt enough to stay
the crash
of the petty-cash,
million-dollar bash,
audited in a calabash.
They’re gonna send it around!
They’re gonna send it around under the Balkans and ’Stans.
They’re gonna hold it all down!
They’re gonna hold it all down: Klondike on the Shatt al-Arab!
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