music poetry WRITING

My Name Is Barnum

My Name Is Barnum

a sea of eyes
board indistinct rides
to useless landings
indifferent to the
infinite circus

The circus psychology of my reality begins beneath a hidden grandstand, where I was born at eleven hundred hours p.m. It takes a long time to build a stable big top, and a longer time to recognize the crowd, bow, and close the curtains. The music inspires me to dance, but when the performers leave, my clothes disappear, and I return to animal pose.

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