Voyage To Strange Latitudes

In the strange latitudes
of that hemisphere
animals wear shifting eyes
wind blows a hollow song
through aeolian strings
set on a razor's edge.

                  There
the newborn adorn
dark furniture like a
ship captain's parlous
displaying mementos
of exotic voyages;
mewling objects d'art

                   and
love is played at feelingly,
coevals plucking sole eyes
doing the rounds
in collegial fashion
so all can see through
future's mists.

                  There
mountains blossom
bright thorn flowers
earth opens welcome
chasms for escape from
terrifying sameness.

In that country
trespasses are welcome
in boiling cauldrons
spitting primal brew

                     and
heat brings saline dew
to unsuspecting brows.