It’s not that it’s less than sense
On the contrary it exceeds the bounds
Thus somebody can make a pointed reference
And whether by cause correlation or semblance
A mazurka might erupt
The dashboard might descend into darkness
The elevator caught between two floors
And still the regular experience
Of the eternal return of the same
The return of the repressed
That’s why children delight in elephants and unicorns

The slippered emperor in his nightshirt
Extends a trembling candle
The diva in her dwessing woom
Welcomes the the dandified gunslinger
The giant with his single eye now punctured
Howls in frustration and pain
Maybe the cyclops derived from elephant’s skull
Maybe the entertainer had her own dressing room
Behind the stage set’s flat simulacra
And behind that maybe another yet more real
Maybe the wavering potentate caricatures any timorous dad

The secular reductions remain unsatisfying
No mere functionality confines the fire engine’s romance
Odysseus as brutal as the brute
Wins the day with the advantage of technology
And perhaps along with the archaic banqueters we cheer
And slosh our mead or whatever
And perhaps we are relieved that we can
With the Strategizer the Splendidly Mendacious
Sink the sharpened pole into the blinking monocle
And savor like the gods the rising smoke
From the gouts of blood sizzling in the fire in the cave