To Milton (my home town)

MILTON
a place of fire
ecstasy, can take its place
next to constancy
forever in flux
doing nothing

a serpentine kiss
with flaming tongue
the poet, the town gets its name from
can be heard muttering lines from
his epic
in the parking lot
of the abyssal school
where
I came of age

the paddocks are soaked
with flood waters
and stones fill up
the toko river
like the poet man's daughters
stealing his cash making him broke\

for he who comes to this town
find earthen folk
and wintry beard as snow
with a crooked cloak
and a wife in her shower gown
stalks the street

houses creek
as satans sacred screech
could be heard
being turned as he was
into a snake
leaving Adam and eve
alone, distressed
to sleep

and from the end of the poem can be heard thunderal grumble moans
of biblical monsters outside in the dark
of my Milton home
as so can from the poets successor
William Blake can be seen a confessor
of Milton's shape

why just look at the dark satanic mills
and poet named streets
for who but an individual such as thee
can be impressed
nonetheless a rebel
for whom the town can't get much better
at least for me

and by the towns poetic name: Milton
I'll make my claim
that's where it's from
and knowing him, the man
and the brain
that produced its spawn
I'll continue to see the poet here
and not, where he was from