fully grown in the moment,
contorted cross-sections
          of consciousness—
His peach-colored thoughts
emblazoned on each
writhing figure,
                    a circus,
                              his carnival of creation.

the audience is a grand piano,
keyed to each moment, the
          inhale
          exhale of the ring.
Music is made in the gaps—
          sit stand clap

out of key? escorted out.
The band plays on