they brought in the clown
blood smeared on his lips
and sat in silence
as he sang his songs.

they laughed out loud
at the irony of unity
and pretended to consider
what he really believed.

meanwhile,
a million eyes were watching
the quarterback scramble
on 4th & 12;
he tucked the ball
under his arm
and slipped away
like summer rain:
50 yards

then out of bounds,
past the sidelines
out of the stadium
into the sky
towards the moon.

(the smell of a lilac
explodes into air
with a silent kaboom)

soon the clown
was laughing,
too,

after everyone else
had stopped.

tiny telepathic insect women
harvest
nodding-off-like-junkyflowers
from each of the ocean's
purple nipples
and the bubblegum(pop)-
pink spaceships whir by,
dropping off giraffes
in plastic eggs,
then zenly
breaking light's
speedlimit.

it was just then
a mechanical tree
exploded

into jellybeans

and the plastic ants
scurried forth,
walking like steel
to magnetic north.

suddenly an itinerant incandescence infiltrates your iris and they bleed shards
of light and language. pores dilate and butterflies (with wings made of
communist slogans) escape, bursting forth and evaporating. a hobo homunculus
sleeps in a head, painting graffiti on every neuron as your sleep becomes an
insistent torrent of flowers against a backdrop of static and skeletons. you
realize that your skull is an egg. if properly incubated, your mind could one
day hatch. your eyes are doorways to a carnival constructed from every day.
gather a word, it becomes a garden. then a country. then a world.