Your Friendly Neighborhood Poet

 

Well, the sleepwalker
has wandered off, again, this
time into the grand

finale of a
Chinese opera, it seems
(with a backdrop of

clouds like white roses
and the pale pink petals of
karma cascading

gently down from the
hidden catwalk above the
stage), while the friendly

neighborhood poet
is perched up on the roof of
the Pentecostal

church across the street
with a radio, fishing
for birds with a kite.