Verses in an Empty Travel Guide

I.
Stare blissfully into the
eye of Fate’s anvil
as Time hammers in the
 
Sharp edges of tonight.
If you survive the oven
cackling witches’ curses.
 
II.
I’ve been told
I’m insane.
I won’t argue with those
who don’t speak to mirrors
Or who don’t butter both
sides of their toast.
 
Not a single dandelion grows
out of my palm
since the day I was committed.
And Earth’s famine (mankind) gives me
heartburn.
 
III.
View this tapestry:
 
A young man’s metal god
drinks to the health of
the molten core.
 
Unaware, he sings a din
while violins revolt
and set his piano on fire.
 
The fire.
 
That is what catches the eye.
 
IV.
He lives in a fantasy
of sour chameleon breath,
constantly trying to guide
 
The poor beast down a
less slippery slope.
 
If he only knew
casting a pebble would
save their lives.
 
V.
Children drip puddle wet hands
and drink the dirt’s broth.

The boom of father’s voice,
the chill of mother’s hand,
 
Allows life’s deadline
longer rein.
A shallow symphony.