The Dribble

The red king fugals at the crippled crunch.

The ravens and crows dream an obscene dream,

Of life and death beyond the painted row.

A house with wheel chairs and padded doors,

And spokes on open mouths.

The clown is bleeding mercury

In the dim growling light.

Blooming glooming waterways of the clustered crawling dark.

Jarred eyes that see only curves and jagged edges.

The crimson king is painted blue.

The queen is the hooker with the broken legs.

The crownless dog that should be king

But is denied royalty by the spaded hearts.

The teddy bears watching and waiting in silent protest.

Ready to open wide the carnel lusting salvation

Of an empty belly on a sleeping baby.

The songs that nurture and sooth

Turn violent in whales of horrible ripping sounds.

The spinning room drips away its pink ghost

And cracks in maniac colors.

The smoky fumes of the laughing teddy bears

Invite a riot in the rest.

The splash of blood.

The riddles of stuffing and

Glassy plastic eyes roll on the floor in final revaluation.

The king looks away

Choking on the seizuring crow.

The dribble of a crying child

Is caught and cut short

In the dark

In the night.