April 7, 2014 § Leave a comment
Sonnet for Paypal
I stumbled on to grace and speed, when you left
your devotion to bloom in the mud. Your doubt has
since become an impasse. Secret ape experiments
might be breaking us in two; unflattering portraits of
each other in mirrors turned to face boards where
windows once… what? what does a window *do*?
Besides make us all wallet sized. The hill-ette has
become the home of Mole, Jr., and the hangman’s
on the lookout for a mountain. These are our word
salad days, with the dressing served on the side.
John, I… John! Stop painting photorealistic portraits
of Ren & Stimpy cartoons. Let’s get back to writing
the Twin Peaks pilot. You be Frost this time;
I’ll be Lynch.