Red PJs


 Romper Room red PJs,
 discarded,
 spinning dreadful speculation.

Inebriation


 Inebriated capriciousness
 dormant;
 children’s ghost screams
 scattered.

 
 
 
  The palace of low-budget dreams,
 childlike cheesiness,
 has no roof.

 Benediction:
 Bird & Diz blowing “Salt Peanuts”
 through dry autumn leaves.

 
 Why?
 Don’t ask.
 It’s all a string of  
 don’t know mysteries.
 Just say
 thank you.


 Secular ghosts
 radiate phosphorescent
 ennui medication.

 Topsy turvy triumph,
 get-up-and-go
 giggles
 in the upside down.

 Look into my eyes
 Big Boy,
 and read my thoughts;
 just don’t pee on your shoes.

  Makeshift roadside attraction,
 caters to fearful curiosity.

Cardboard bird man:

illusion of flight,

unburdened freedom;

a poet.