under a canary sunset
in the age of emperor everyone
where we worship/covet
animated stars
i can be found re-
tired to my rock garden
watering the marbles
and nodding silently
to a circle of Stoned Buddhas
unrepentant heathen
up to no good
w/ my latest blasphemy
as i catalog the anatomy of clouds
clad only in the flea-bitten rags
of what remains of my heart
from reluctant messiah
to triumphant pariah
somewhere along this fugitive journey
i found myself in the company
of a post-modern traveling circus
as the straight-faced clown
juggling scorpions w/ the dandelion tamer
as the bearded lady mans the stopwatch