Desmond O’Brien

Somehow i joined the jugglers
loping through the world’s town
passing through dimensions
tossing words into the right
                                          balanced
                                          pattern

i found myself on the bard’s journey
in the parade of ink droolers
magicians of scrawl
in a spell
              i think
woven in wet script
tattooed man
                     tootling my lines
over the skies of my brow
blowing out my clouds
puffs of my chameleon stuff
                                         like confetti
in the curbs along the way
after the whims have passed
                                            to another page.