In the dark hour
my soul vibrates on its wobbly tire,
while these scissors chop at old dead trees,
cuts a swath of two-edged tigers
no crayons will color...
all pale blue stripes and frayed albino curls,
my black toes squishing in sodden pampas
grass, claws retracted
like a clown's weepy issue,
what use, what use
honk, honk, goes my funny nose
now giggle for me pretty girl
let me don this wig like a construction
hat, big shoes, slapstick horn
ahoogah, ahoogah,
let me put on this comedic hibernaculum
magic red balls stuck between my fingers
let these eyes soak you up, until ...
all my newspapers drown in mud puddles,
their inks running to a sticky purple goo.