Clowns et al

how do we wait for a sound
that holds our life in its palms
how do we howl when the moon
howls back twice as hard
how do these beacons spin
on a dime when our wallets hold nothing but air
how do the shadows grow longer
than the patience that’s stripped raw and bare
how do the palpitations of a life
forgotten and ragged perambulate golden and proper before our eyes in a riotous heartbeat
how do lanes on a roadway converge with erratic distaste
when our hands shake at the motion and any notion of speed when we haste


they led to a place through a hole in the ground
where I could sing with the demons

the walls were cold and the feeling alone
was something hard to place

it moved with me within it
and the sky was a blur of sound

the gargantuan, seismic, blue wonder
where they drew plumes and smiles in the cloud

I then erased all I knew of the world
when the shadows provided only nonsense

music reverberated and clutched me
mad faces contorted through smoke

they led to a place through a hole in the ground
and I’ve never returned since that day

they proclaimed that I’m one of their brood now
despite the shaking I’ve no reason to worry

the young, restless mind

It’s that time again
for the savage descent
into rabid unleashing
of rascal new sense.

You wake and are broken
and around and around
this mind you’re a pinball
with the repetitive sound.

To the ground you’re a master
that paces and pulls
and the faces you pull
speak of telephone calls.

Make way for a monster
I’ve drawn on the ground
in dust with my pacing;
germinate with each pound.