Running Amok

Feeling a harrow dragging plow over the résumé    
of the blooming shadow in the Gethsemane of my    
insanity. With an arc of ashes kindling my soul    
castrating the pendulum down the hall. Listening to    
the insane Coocoo as it rewinds the clock backward    
ticking out its androgynous tongue. Playing a little  
widdershins on my knee.    
   
Tipping over the bottle of beer. Welcoming you to    
my rum yard of the raven's claw in my poetic    
Odyssey. Setting sail with my quill. Wearing my
Buster Brown's. Playing Knick Knack with a  
marionette in the twilight pulling out a Plum.  
Playing shotgun. Watching me run now, dragging  
corsets.