The Irvings are Un-nerving...

Seeing with the heart is un-nerving from the start,
when the brain is encased in a pumpkin head.
A jackal lantern will view the world from a logical
conclusion, as the collusives all said. A propo, here's
the world that you think you know. Huh? Say what?
Is it so?

In a linear way we are doomed as the apocalypists say,
we must retreat to the past of a better day and, oh,
by the way, there is this thing called a plausibility
that will get in the way. It's a tower of structure with
mirrors and smoke, leaden windows squared off with
sighs that will choke... a poor believer in a frock coat.

Ichabod, crane your neck when you wake from the winkle,
cider house rules when society tinkles, the wisest of all from
your Tarry-town, where men can ride when no one's around.

Those Irvings are un-nerving, but one thing is sure
if you read 'em you weep for the surely insecure.

A scary world, where the strong of heart is the one to adore.
Oh and meany, you read, and weep, and un-nerve some more.