Riches to Ragtime
your umbrella head is open &
your thoughts are pouring down
like confetti on astronauts
&
your galaxies have drifted
into seafoam waves of
anxiety & obsession
before
the jungle of the concrete city
closes in
on your extinguished flames
your smothered sparks
snuffed out
your were the monarch of mastery
but now
you are incarcerated in
the dungeons of
the château d’if-not
like 🙂
Thank you!