----- Rick Werner Fahr

The following are spontaneous observations concerning the discovery
Of four dead clowns in a room with a CD player
Set on auto-repeat and playing a neo- rockabilly
Song about four dead clowns found in a room
With a CD player set on auto-repeat.       

"Yep. I guess it's true. Some people really hate clowns."

"This one had really bad makeup."

"This one looked like he wanted to be a mascot  for
a drive thru hamburger joint. Yuk."

"Poor bastards, this time they could only joke their way into
hell. Not through it."

These observations are just that.
Correct. Concealing. Accompanied by
The reactionary clench of observatory fingers
Sensing the spent wake of an alien fury.

"Nasty wall splatter."

"How come none of these guys had any of
those fake flowers that squirt water in your eyes.
That's really odd."

Observations. Bordering on the necessary.
Containing no dialogue between
The living and the dead.
It's true.
Flowers cannot be hell.
(Not even in the brightly lit 24 hour mega-market boxstores. of hell.)
So easily replaced are they
By burning screams and anti-image.
Cuttings. Vigorous termination.
The hugely angled trajectory and distance
Of erasure and imaginary afterlife.
The absence, not of wealth,
But of deference and spiritual accounting.

"Wait a minute, we got a flower. A genuine squirter.
This one has it in his hand."

There is however, the appearance
Of  the occasional rose.
And, like anything anywhere else,
Once the screaming inside it stops,
It is awesome.
It is final.
It is beautiful.
Even if it isn't real.

        Teach this.
And after the Performance

She waits for the roar
Heart busted like the lock
Of her caravan propped up on bricks

The trapeze artist drops
Her nails and lashes and top
As children cheer bobby socks off

With wooden legs rolling in the dust
Moscow clown dashes for front row
Armpits cascading state secrets

Leaps on her lap like a child
And slaps a wet one
On tear stained cheek

Come you must dance!
You must place your head so
Inside lazy lion's jaw no?

Elephants sit smoke and fume
Cold coffee eyes with history
Squirt from Sudan size bowties

Under the caravan the weak man
Gums softly and mechanically
At his leopard skin pants
Jason Lee