God-shaped Hole (heavily revised 3rd verse)

I know, this is becoming reidiculous, but there have been major revisions, so critiques are required. Reclining A cluster of idle thoughts Shot the breeze til they were sure that it had died Three black birds Maypole-dancing figurines Seemed to whisper that the silent stillness lied The word was passed to Pry the sky apart And with their shovels free the breaths it stole But humble doubts had Seized their mother heart Sleeping in the knoll Until a tall and dapper man Said smiling, “Why, of course you can!” They marked the spot and there began To dig a God-shaped hole Eclipses Stuttered across pallid skies As blind men searched for a matching pair of socks Rising damp Flooded the inland valleys Where the stranded shepherds clung to floating rocks With scopes of all kinds Strapped to their noses Serious men studied each other’s sole Determined to find Petals of roses To perfume the coal With grimy smiles the miners laid A weary arm upon the spade That bit the seething soil where they’d Prepared a God-shaped hole Predators Of heavy depths and coldness Were spied from the mast by children of famine They circled Like leathery satellites Around a happy school of singing salmon A man in velour Watched an eager crowd And smiled while each man worked to earn his toll Picking with needles At the fine white shroud Some men named Sheol Fingers were busy words were curt Breezes ruffled a maiden’s skirt As he cast his handful of dirt Into the God-shaped hole