From this-

The very beginning

It was merely the end of one side of life, to the other

As purple smoke flooded the veins of those

Sane enough to enjoy its rich texture

As dancing sparks flew through the night,

Curling around our shoeless feet

From there-

We congregated like flamingos

To an amphitheater made of standing dreams

And turkeys ricocheting from wall to street

(in their hundred-dollar three-piece monkey-suits)

As we listened to an orchestra

Made of tuna cans and trash bins

Made of snow crunching from under the feet

Of those curious enough to step into it

Made of pigeons plucking peonies

Because the dove was late

The dove, which was scheduled to make an appearance

With his trusty olive branch,

Forgot that the earth was supposed to be destroyed

There are better things to do today

Then wait for those dark hooded angels

To bring us closer


And away from this