october thirteenth time

I did not post yesterday--bad news bears! I will fix it, somehow. The below is missing a lot of things, but it is a schematic in my head.

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The most famous song of all circuses
is called "Entrance of the Gladiators".

The master of ceremonies wears
the enormous pelt of an extraordinary
and woe-begotten Elmo. Glockenspiels pant
and jump in droves, hum with
syncopation at the knees of clowns
and babies, but the audience does not
ever take notice. The instruments are a pack
of wild dogs and are not satisfied
with only popcorn and chocolate.

The ladies
shuffle in like playing cards and tier
the seating like a wedding cake.
They wear six rings:
their fidelity changing with the
height of the seasons and width
of the surrounding top hats. The men
bet on their favorite tigers and
press the toenails of an elephant with
their heavy wooden canes.

[There are many necessary deaths
in a circus--some of the anticipated
self; some of the reals
and unreals that die with us.]