Thought River Elbow

Behind his shoulder, a legend breaking free
From a planar landscape and bursting into cloud
At a thousand metres. The day is rolling
Past, snakes under the veranda cool their skin,
Waiting for the summer rains to wash the vines
And make succulent the pale-veined leaves.
Philosophy and experiment have restructured
His crystal thought and through its glacial light
A thousand tiny stories are refracted, plunging
At last into the depths of paper and waves
That shuffle past his fingers. It's a machine
For converting history into light,
For breaking open the tombs of conspiracy
And rifling their hidden joys, the love
Forgotten by monks about their business
And businessmen praying at mahogany altars
For eternal increase.