This poem he says, turning slowly
so they hear him like a lighthouse:
bright beam of blueeyes,
then dimmer rumors
amid fogdank hills,

This here poem, he hoots, has just circumnavigated its world!
The mind's a world ('STALE pigeoncrumbs' I think)
as he shuffles
contra clockish--

Friends, my poem orbits localer than astronauts
and lots cheaper too! Yes the poem with no boosters
or even lead-free gasoline,
he snaps happily
facing me now for a fourth time,

circumnavigates right well the Poet Planetoid.
And though I ain't much of a star, consider, friend:

perhaps a low orbit these days is wise
when Governor Brown eats fries
between religions
and says it's an era of limits
between fries.

If you must circumnavigate something he says,
facing me for the fifth and (though I do not yet know it) FINAL time,

Circumnavigate something small.
Oh yes and if you must
deflate an ism, he says
removing a large brass or copper
pin from an elephantine pocket
and inserting it in a passing
busynessman

Make sure
what you pop
is hollow
he says
as his nose is busted by
the valise.