Cosmology

I dreamed I was canoeing through the moonlight.
It was like an array of spots with a battery of blue lenses.
Why, I’m being shot at by horny little cupids
With flypaper arrows that seem painted in mist.
I receive a fax: it’s all my true identities at once
Trying to reveal the nature of the world
Until the paper comes out black.
My love is there looking tragic and pale as an ox
And she is plucking orchid petals saying:
I am the world; I am the world, not!
I just kept paddling along with my shepherd’s scythe,
Every now and then using my false leg to bail.