THE SHOW

Forgive me the rotting joke
Of the chicken
Crossing the road.

That it was listening
To Bach’s last symphony
Pays no mind to me

As I’m staying put
In the (Heehaw)
Nuclear pad guised

As a transitional sandbox
Where I’m reading,
Beyond Good & Evil,

The free spirit
Of Nietzsche–
And quite beyond

A thingamajig care

For King Koopa’s squad
Of reptillian bots
And nano bolts

Still in their own hand-
dug trench
Of gunning for my soul.

It’s out of grabs
And still in tempo
From Dactyl to Spondee–

With the gallop
Of the Lone
Ranger–

Born for danger
With the current
Of the brown river God

Who ever-so-swiftly
You folks offended
And disturbed

For first casting me
By Shanghai
From never-never.

For filching fire from the Swan?
(i.e., I spoke sincerely)
In the face of tyranny

Which hydes beneath the mask
Of Momus~Hey Zeus, get ready
For Thoth’s magic school bus.

Your toys aren’t us.