The hooded Homosapien ingests his caffeine,
outside the pig pen as the pussycats
feed on misinformation. Platinum windows
project far-off agrarian fields.
Weather balloons launch just after dark.
In each earthly cheek an Elysian dimple.
Great wonders of the universe confirm
the panic alarms. The Book of the Dead
a Hollywood script. A wart on the forehead
a symbol of beauty. Victims of ball lightning,
morose Rembrandts promote the safe spaces.
Manga raconteurs eat genetically altered oranges
and other food imported just beyond Orion's Belt.
The tiger comes to tea, the elephant complains,
both dressed up in clothes and put on display
as cirrus clouds stampede the antelope sky.
The broken-hearted nibble hamburgers
and the holograms respond with resilient requiems.
To majestic expletives I walk the apple-pie streets.
I need an elderly woman to lick my eyeballs clean,
someone to tell me how Solomon built his temple!