an apparition in yellow
behold the man!
how he dances
on the head of a pin
how he spins
transfixed by hatred and fear
how he comes and goes
in deliberate throes
how he quietly sneers
how he's wildly sincere
now he elides his own alteration
now he's quietly flying
now he sits down in desperate frustration
now he gets up in triumph
season's cretins! shoes & art
a dime short of three fifty
he's a marker of all plastic parts
he's unknown to all autumn boredom
he takes in all the sounds
his apartment coming to life
water
gas
thermostat
he performs his postmodern postmortems
he's surrounded by fakers and liars
sniffing always at each other's butts
he's a desperate despot looking for queens
to crown and caress with much glee
when—look! past run (better than prostitutes!
these mothers they fuck for free!
but no he has much bigger fish on his dish
so to the low flying shoulder's wink sprite
he whispers quite careful and low
there's no place like the night
there's no place like the night
there is no place like the night