Sheep May Safely Whatever, Unfazed

Is there anywhere on this whenever
You happen to be as I have to ask
You this question, anywhere wherever

On this sphere that was never the bottom
Of some "prehistoric sea"? Is the past,
Plumbed, always as boring and unfathomed

As the deep that James Cameron shot down
In his one-man submarine, rocket fast,
To go where no one's gone before, a brown,

Crushing desert by the light of his lamps?
Only rarely the real monsters will pass
Up through accidental view, fossils stamped

As splayed, contorted grotesques on the rocks
Raising bluffs in some future Nebraska,
Crushed submarines high above grazing flocks.