Matted weave of gridlocked avenues,
    mud of gripping alligator tires,
    extraterrestrial preyings;
            masks make them
            somewhat blind
    as droll rolls away with wasted time.
    Gods toss offerings to greedy creations;
fleur de lis hails
crown the multitude
    as lawns morph to gravy
    under merry uplifted arms.
            What is lent
            is cloudseed
    for reciprocity: a burgeoning levy
    behind each foremost thought.
Pompom chickens
and surly clowns pass by:
    extraterrestrials praying,
    their jewelry drooping
    in wind-dancing palms.

Featured art: Death of Childhood, by Tim Lane.

Image used with permission from the artist.

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