“The universe is but a projection of the mind,”
spills Calculator Ptom with innocuous vision.
His G note's green on the red electric. The spectrum
states Even A Donkey Gets Big Erections.
While society falls from a high rise buildin
g thinking to itself so far so good, so far so good,
we board a train not knowing where it's headed -
maybe wake under leaves in a suburban wood?
He says “we're the glitter on the Christmas trees
and not the litter in the filibustering breeze.”
We wake in Luton all compress sans money
as the raucous dawn birds invoke the honey.
We get sent packing back the same way home.
We're getting bored of ash and atoms and foam.
We're swelling with Homeric adventures in towns
where planes, planes are the shoes of clowns.