Friday, February 10, 2012

WHERE'S WALDO? - ANOTHER MUTATION

I cured this tree by tying its blind spots together.
The sun in the back demonstrated how glowsticks eat their young.
Treadling noodles, the new ballet. The new
anonymous game show contender. Head like failed basketball seed,
decapitated – lifting it over its own lip is a pain.
They can't, for instance, be emailed until they've germinated.
But it's like quantifying a woolly mammoth. Namely,
it's a mess. What used to be a flexible croissant contraception.
Waldo on a blind date gawking at his crotch's oatmeal magic,
craving intervention from a lobster. The restaurant incredibly
few, and he incredibly many.

2 comments:

  1. it's a harsh treatment of the tree, you know
    it should explode, or implode, or even become born-again))
    its sap should turn into wine afterwards!

    ReplyDelete
  2. a restaurant filled with waldos all at once deliquescing is the tree's sap-into-wine!

    ReplyDelete

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