Don’t Fight the Monkey

A MAZE is a bad place to be sloshed.
TOKEN of my folly: I got to the center, picked a fight with a
MANGAbey. Never fight a monkey. (Even when on the wagon).
BOOZY ideas crumble when you’ve sobered up and are getting a rabies shot.

Any monster will do

The
FREAK, pursued by the maddened troop, foamed at the
MOUTH. Trapped at the crumbling edge of the
CLIFF-top, he paused. Time to drop, to die. The nearing
TROOP, open-mouthed, watched him tumble, peaceful, without a cry.

Chaos or Order

EXIST, professed, in cauldron’s roiling brew, atoms colliding, yet
FLAIR for story, most days, has you weave sense, narrative, purpose.
TAROT’s a glitch, a wobble in your views, a hope some kind of providence is there to read.
TRUST your nihilistic cosmos, dismiss your intuition of sense. Or: invert that order and seek order?

Endor

FLAIR of royalty replaced by disguise, the king’s night got darker.
”TRUST you?!?!? You know what Saul has done to all the Seers and
TAROT readers in the country? Hardly any of us even
EXIST anymore! Who was it you wanted to summon, anyway?”