The wizard has grown
this is his house glowing
labrynth like and confusing
I walk inside and cannot make sense
doors and windows are surreal shapes
some unfit for us human early apes
The roof has curved the path lies
bowing down to the red sky
he takes off his hat and studies an image
His house is letters, numbers of fringe
that help us up or push us down glowing
all designed by shadows in photos
shadows trying to avoid the flash
as concrete was poured laborers rash
The wizard himself built a conveyor belt
to walk on those long midnight strolls to nowhere
where the night's red cloud was extended by city light
The wizard's grin kicked about rolling around his face
That loose grin enchanting the wall and ceiling
where you or I wound up in a frame of feeling
of your unwanted family photos
duplicated and sent to his strange house
to hang there, strangers pretending to smile
he needed those images for spells
the awkwardness of how stance and face fell
piled around by people who often made you cry
Made permanent as brick's drippy cement dries
yes you and a thousand like you
pretending to smile in the image
mixing spells to go outward as spies
Just like him, the wizard casting the night's red cloud skies
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