The legendary Bill Barnum turned eighty-five during last weekend, where I saw him perform at the Out of The Blue. Started to write this shortly afterwards.
Birth
Drawing gallery's center
Bill Barnum pirouettes
into eighty-five
fronts children's scapes
crayoned carnations
alien flowers
he recalls
once crumbling
in half-remembered dance
grass tall enough
for cockatoos to crouch
amongst manticores
young self-portraits
as frontiersmen
wave on wall
new landscapes
he'll visit after bowing.
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