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Thomas The Jefferson’s Train

In my dream
Thomas Jefferson pops out a pilgrim
in The Jeffersons family,
proprietors of Chinese laundries
on the worst end of Main Street’s forested path
emerging toward Sanford Sons and Daughters Recycling Dump.

Here, midst polyglot stone soups
both informing and deforming,
occasionally reforming,
Thomas declares revolutionary interdependence with Earth’s dignity
as his senior honor’s thesis
read out boldly to collegial students
teaching cultural enrichment,
hoping for autonomic network surges
of WinWin political ecological outcomes.

Thomas, sometimes called Red behind his considerable backside,
discovered repurposing as economic thesis
and recovering recycling paths of golden intentions
as political antithesis
of terrorist fascist Christians
who had hoped to grow up
to join SuperJewish kibbutzisms
which was merely a more high-toned reference
to the pilgrim’s village recycling crashdump
of at-risk people looking for more inviting places
with sufficient space
for the entire upstairs-downstairs Jefferson Tribe
of Arabic DayDream stews
and stud muffins.

When Red heard young Thomas hoped to revive Taoist MidWays
all along pilgrim’s Main Street sonnets and plays
he prayed to Martha Washington
“My heart, my heart,
I could not survive such empire deconstruction!”

Somehow SuperHero Thomas the Jeffersonian Train
regenerated a multicultural chain of fools
to revolve this foxy precycling plant
into a MidWay forest of sweet and sour bodhisattva delights,
currency accepted up as down MidWay’s carnival street
in Jefferson’s NoShirtTicket-NoLaundryService busy mess
of humanity deforming Earth’s Rights
to procreate recreation of poli-econormic education,
schools of synchronic swimming Red Jeffersonian fish
remembering how to pilgrim surf thru interracial plowing seasons
to turn out hot melting stone soup feasts
of uniting nation futures
invested in laundering unhealthy wealth
until Thomas redreamed rainbow cream.

As Thomas this Jefferson Train
pulled away from wu wei pilgrimage station,
he called out to all repurposing Foxes,
Merry CoMessiahs to all nations
and states of recycling benighted dreams.

Now there’s a good night’s sleep
you’ll never address backward inside-out again.

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