Yo-yo
Pogo stick
Wax and wick
Icy slick logistic tricks
Concrete streets
Crack my feet
Up or down
Follow that clown
With the big red frown
Whichever verb does the noun

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For the Good Doctor

Now, let’s hear it
What does silence say?
How do phantoms pass the day?
How much does a dream weigh
After doubt has chased it away?
What random tangent shall we entertain?
These are the pressing questions
Unasked in their very expression

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Held a coronation for a scarecrow
Crowned by a setting-sun halo
Planted lines of wind in sterile soil
Watered with essential oils
Come summer still tilling a field of dust
Just us and that straw-boss
Out of time and out of trust

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Fire in the wax museum
Effigies melting down
But the fever’s just a symptom
Of what’s ailing this town

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It’s a Sphinx without a riddle
An oubliette without a hatch
A bow without a fiddle
Or a torch without a match

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Ah, those were our halcyon nights
Dancing on fantasy’s ledge
Outlandish pied-piper satellites
Pushing the envelope over the edge

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You’d never guess it from their tattered jackets
Four shadows sharing the glare
How they rode skyward chariots
And vaulted the moon on a dare
Well, I tell you, it was a sordid affair
How the clown confronted the crown
And both of their heads came tumbling down

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with Flash Mountain Flood

Old man what have you left for us
Fields of poison and cities of rust
The sky painted industrial grey,
Foggin’ up tomorrow for your gravy today

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A mask came by and rang my bell
And told me I had won the prize
Opened the door and oh how I fell
For the impeccable disguise

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’Twas the battle of White Mountain
Bohemian dreams in flames
And among the abandoned banners
Lay the opposites that were the same
Arsenals of vitriol
Launched in fits of ire
Save your face or save your soul
But either way it ends in fire

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Truth is a goat
Herded though the desert
By gruff bearded keepers
Bearing hooked and wooden sticks

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Oh, where were we?
We were thinking about where we were
When we walked out past the who knows what
And then out of the jungle jumped a jangled ball
Of tangled and twisted hesitation
It was waiting for something to wait for
Hoping for a sudden burst of optimism
To drop from the dark rivulets of doom
Then there were the aftereffects
Of the foreshadowing
Burning holes in the red carpets
Down the hallways of happenstance
And into the gloomy rooms of never can be
Back up the elevator shafts of impossibility
Do you remember?
Do you remember where we were
Halfway there, or a little less
In the infinite regress of the infinite regress

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ARIA

Echoing yesterday’s songs
As I sing tomorrow’s tunes
Scrying my tattered soul
Like a scattered plate of runes
Hunting new ways to praise
The pale glory of the moon

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YUL

I met him pike hoses
In protean pantomimes
Where the meta juxtaposes
And where the mystery rhymes

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JACK

I’m not trying to rise to sainthood
Nor vying for a Nobel prize
I plan to be good and misunderstood
So here’s a word or two for the wise

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You’d never guess it from their tattered jackets
Four shadows sharing the glare
How they rode skyward chariots
And vaulted the moon on a dare
Well, I tell you, it was a sordid affair
How the clown confronted the crown
And both of their heads came tumbling down

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Sky was raining question marks
Djinn spinning in bodies of dust
Air rippling with cobalt sparks
Dancing in fantasies of treasure and trust

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