2019 – Five – the madness of poets, bunnies, dust, and meat

 

there are bunnies made of dust
and bunnies made of meat
hit by cars made out of rust
and steel out on the street
and all of them are dead
dust bunnies rusty sweet
old cars that wheel like ghosts
and hares i’ll never meet

the rabbit in the hole
the rabbit in glade
and alice she’s gone old,
and rocks out in the shade
of trees she could have climbed
in parks where she once played
when wonderland was new
before it was betrayed

we’ve lost our faith in alice
and in white rabbits too
we’ve placed our trust in cash
and in bright autos too
but cash shrinks in the wash
and rust comes home to roost
when all we do is watch
false pictures of what’s true

so i’m collecting bunnies
the bunnies made of dust
to hide them from the cars
the automatic rust
someday they’ll come alive
as i believe they must
cause wonderland is real to me
it’s real life i don’t trust.

one day you’ll seek to find me
one day you’ll feel so old
but i’m not what you’ll see
i feel i’ll have gone bold
and feral like a bunny
and shaken off the scold
of rust and meat and real life
and chased a rabbit down a hole

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