Another Farrago of Boilerplate Clichés

See through teardrop
     of pale gold fire,
     tail wagging sperm-
     frantic over its
     long wax melting time
     as candle tears worm
     down and freeze along
     the white ghost length;

Where the flying spirit-
     angel-free with wings
     like Monet’s end-of-
     -day palette,
     some attempted
     saint, or Icarus,
     mimics all of us

     and the Hindenburg