the Oscars is magnetic,
the featherball time-tic responsible
for the Badminton Malfunction
is
the
Creature
in
it
the powdery ratchet on the
shoulder of the disturbing trend
of brothel-whitening
is
the
Vincent
Price
breakfast
the Transferable Litter Box
on Bigfoot wheels, the irony of the
hydro-dagger
is
the
sun
coming
up
before
dark
sitting on London rocking back
and forth – a banshee weeping spitefully degenerating
into red sausage
is
very
DEAR
TO
ME
a horny Sherlock Holmes says
to the tablecloth of dazed fuchsia,
the only time
olive oil and abortions mix to
produce a midget cabaret
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