the white petals from a growing
daisy. And eats them for lunch. They
say he is crazy. He lassoes the sun
with a yo-yo string. Locks it in his

dungeon in the left wing. He paints
the cornflower sky tar black. It
matched his mood and his thick
woolen slacks. He rips the

stripes off the candy canes. Builds
his house out of razors and
chains. Cuts all the trees in his
backyard. His face is brown leather

and his tummy, mustard and
lard. Some folks say he wasn't
born. He was raised from a shallow
grave in a delta wave.