A swirl of logic, backwards-bound,
Where feet are lost and skies are found!
The tea is cold, the clock is dead,
With buttered toast inside my head!
The blossoms roar a petal-song,
Where right is right and wrong is long.
I’ve painted all the lilies green,
And danced with ghosts I’ve never seen!
The stars are buttons on a vest,
The moon is put to final rest.
A sneeze of glitter, a cough of gold,
A story that can’t quite be told!
So pour the wine that isn’t there,
And comb the static from your hair!
For in this wild and dizzy place,
There’s not a lick of time or space!
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 