Parquet menagerie, liberal dogma-- vast imaginings,
ambivalent gargoyles perched in the clouds, cradling the sun.
Eyes closed, think about the world.
More and more, fire down below!
Down on the floor, with the soot and the dust,
from dawn till dusk, and thus we pray.
But not alone! El-Ron Eldorado, remember the Alamo,
sleight of hand, now you see it, now you don't.
Capture the hearts and minds, but leave the rationality out.
Install lunacy, variable travels to infinity and beyond.
And then, more amazingly, out in the plains of the forgotten
Americas, alone in the woods, with no one else around,
Smith found the truth. Oh did you, oh did you? Tell me piper,
hath you a song? More like Soapy Smith, not Joe.
Play on, play on, bigot of ivory, no ebony allowed.
That knocks me out.
Herr preacher, Herr minister.
Mr. Mengele, the mongrel doctor of the east/west—it's all point of view really.
All in a circle, over and over, to never fail. Aryan devil!
How does it go?
What by chance,
a strange happenstance, I awoke within a room of mirrors.
My stairs had faded and only a room remained, clearly not of my own construction.
What shoddy construction! What abysmal architecture.
All square, floor and wall and ceiling all reflecting me back upon myself.
Sensing need of escape, I ran forward, for no backward existed.
There remained only me, times a million, in this dislocated vessel beyond space and time.
Suddenly, a crack within the mirrors occurred, and there was a portal of nebulous black.
It warped and warped--in and out, my head and consciousness expanding with it.
And as I looked and looked, I saw a vision of the engine of life itself!
There, at the origin, or what I perceived to be
the beginning of all things, I heard a loud sonic boom,
and was suddenly knocked down, permanently deaf, bleeding from
many an unsightly orifice upon the glass floor.
My mind was wrecked with unspeakable pain that would not ease,
and countless hours passed before I dared to look again.
And deep inside the portal, an image formed that could not be mistaken.
A cloudy fog in the shape of men standing around
a wooden table discussing matters of seemingly major importance.
But I could not hear, I could not hear!
The blood from my ears had dried but still no sound returned.
I chanced a tear at the loss of my senses, and chanced many more
as I considered my predicament. I had no knowledge
of my surroundings, and no exit or return could be discovered.
Had I made a mistake in escaping that land so far down below?
Was it even below? All sense of direction and sense of sense itself
had ceased to exist.
Despair now I truly knew. No atheist in a foxhole.
I cried aloud to God and the angels to save me from the horror I saw.
Hours passed, but they could have been days! I no longer knew day from
night or minute from year!
I was lost within a place by itself completely lost. I desired nothing
anymore, and regretted not being down upon the smoggy Earth—to die with others of my ilk.
The flexing nebula moved and moved, and drew me once again to the threshold.
Here now, I let go of my fears, and jumped head first into that black vacuum of empty space.
I could feel space itself warp around me, and my body began to stretch
and contract again within. Oh God make it stop! Unspeakable pain,
yogurt gut, egg-yolk brain, scattered thoughts. Here and there
and everywhere. Down the rabbit hole.
Missing Kansas. Take me home—where is home?