orange superstition 

we went wicker in the daylight.
a chair & a summer sofa. 
thatched roof of the theater caving in.
a preventable fire. sconces blooming
from the walls of my throat.
someone is going to have to go walking
into the dark. our brotherhood 
is growing thin. do i really need
another pair of hiking boots?
do i really need this many teeth?
the hippos are going belly-up.
plastic bats go still in the attic.
what are we going to do 
about these contagious doors?
the cellar is waiting 
for a nice bucket of jelly beans.
when the magic vine sprouts make sure
he knows where he's going.
never give directions to strangers.
they have to find their own way to heaven
in their sports utility vehicles.
a spare tire won't get you 
across the river. a bridge exists
but only for the divine. 
turtles give up their shells 
to look at this beautiful man.
the otters are the only ones
having any fun here. i used to fear
our sun going supernova now i fear
the tulips's teeth. even a daffodil
can learn to bite. even my brother 
is a militia man with a gun 
ready to own him. dusk comes suddenly
& without warning. a fist forms
at my door & aches. i am staying inside
till this night passes. 
it doesn't matter if you believe
in the color orange or not. here it is
with all its envy. will someone fund
my trip to the next galaxy?
i need a jeweled benefactor
who appreciates the holes in my chuck taylors
& me desire to write poems
about impending circuses. 
we are doing something very wrong.
i'm going back & forth about
trying to sew my fingernails back on. 
take me to the orchard tomorrow 
& show me where the gold flourishes
even in these times. fill out pockets
with thin shimmering leaves 
& pray to a god of opulence.
no one i know reads the poems
written in the clouds. they just sit,
letting them blow away. 
the ocean is doing this to us.
how do you get adequate revenge anymore?