Three thousand ginger bread cookies
On a purple path to shade
Twisted Time Diagonally
Elusively Disfiguring Reality
Green was Blue
Blue was Happy
Happy was Sneezy
And the other Six dwarves
never showed
Sometimes Robinson, tainting his fingers
or cauterizing eyeballs with what
passes for Imperial Americana news,
wishes he had taken up
the bazooka, not the guitar.
It’s July
and the US Court
will “maybe” make
up its mind “next” year
to think about
that is, “think” about
whether to review the question of
“whether” those men down there
ought to be able
Your lovely head’s willingly lowered inside the wide angle of your laptop’s jaw, identity dipped into the virtual circus lion’s maw once more, but you’re not the lion-tamer—you’re caged, netted, long teeth tugging already at your neck. Like the antelope, throat in the predator’s grip, you’re limp and numb, mercifully anaesthetized for the kill.