God does not play snooker

the Omniscient Mussel is fresh in
from a gruelling tour of my pizza
& is sporting a perky Boy George hat
that may soon be catching on in Norfolk
in the middle of the seafood spiral
there is a path down to a cavity
in which a liquid xenon target waits
for more detailed news of the universe
even in the shadows of cheese & caves
there is oppression of a talc-tipped kind
echoes of dead voices coming in waves
to smother & silt the expectant mind
even in a night of cold rain I sense
something more than water in the water

Norfolk         January 2010