blood on the dance floor in poetry

I want a conspiracy theory where Michael Jackson died
trying to invent a dance move so awesome it killed him
and the government covered up so others don’t try it
no thousands of copycat deaths to be had
telling the truth would be bad

I want a conspiracy theory where John F Kennedy
took the bullet for the Queen of the Invisible Men
who was negotiating with her in plain sight because
normal men can’t see them without a special device
war with the invisible prevented by his sacrifice
but because we can’t know of the transparent other
we need to think it was Lee Harvey, brother

I want to hear about the crucifixion
from the perspective of the trees
I want a trial of Pooh Bear’s crimes
from the courthouse of the bees
I want the Three Bears to be sympathetic
to that poor homeless girl’s needs
I want reality to prove out what doesn’t seem
I want reality’s stitches
to burst out of its seams
with no one else to blame
I want all the humiliations
to turn out secretly humane
or at least
funnier