Photo credit: def110
Slopped down the time-line
thundered apples and you’re hypnotized
Persia boys and all the wives -
and the snow effect is optimized.
That’s when the Circus gathered ’round,
humped-backed by joy, a revelling sound
- and you looked amused and China-eyed,
with an extraordinary pride.
I plucked the hat from the ghost-boy,
out of a photograph, as a toy;
the canvas was charming in that light
out-of-standards, out-of-sight.
Here is my own language of pain,
i write little units of decay -
so come over, fall onto some sadness,
i shall crown it with madness.