Olly Olly Oxen Free Maybe
The evening ravens snarl. Bassoons belch.
A time for everything but not today.
Do drains swirl backwards in Australia?
There are times when rain matters most.
Surreal apples vomit lovely worms.
So what if your shoes are worn out?
Your feet are happy as dizzy penguins.
The grass is never, ever greener,
Her violet eyes dance in surprise.
The universe’s plumbing often leaks.
Caught in an impossibly dreary moment.
The swans have all turned deepest black
and sadly soared off to seek Nirvana.
Cat snores in the corner like a spouse.
Everything breaks forever into wholeness.
Parking tickets and Emus, not your fault.
The train packed with what is pulls
into the station of what never was.
Darkness becomes a mode of seeing.
You want to know whatever you don’t.
All those garbled messages collude
to create a better kind of meaning.
There is a flea market in your brain.
Nothing to fear from petulant ravens.
Bassoons sing like perfect, broken angels.
It may be safe to come out now or not.
If you like this piece, and can afford it, consider donating.
“A penny for the Old Guy?”
