The American Renaissance

stumbling past Ikea gargoyles
custom ordered
factory made
a nation of children
of children, of children
and so on…
caught in the maze
of useless knowledge
between
the double-vision clocktowers
drunken sailors, all

awaken the sleepers
from their fog

slowly, slowly,
tip-toes ken kesey
and his band
of      merry pranksters
past the cops,
with a thousand unwritten tickets
dangling from their hands,
into the catacombs
of the Louvre
pausing only at Mona Lisa
penciling in a mustache then
stalking on,
muttering verses from the Qu’ran
intoning the Word
OM
the word that created all
the art hanging on the wall
the cheeseburger wrappers that fall
from the trashcan:
yellowed manuscripts
of unpublished,
unpublishable novels,
burning, burning evermore

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