Vulcan Vishnu

Vulcan spews smokes, towards a giant bird,
Vishnu gazed into the silent eyes

     of the seven-headed cobra.

The artist rests in territories where ideas live,
     amidst carved giants and mute faces 

     of stone and wood.

A small pot of mercury
the size of the tin of baked beans,
we may eat for dinner,
      is impossible to pick up in one hand.

Ingots may be lifted with great strength
      after a deep breath, held for a second.
Violin space-music plays, the volcano explodes,
      the space ship on the ceiling lights up.

The roar of anti-gravity engines are heard.