Printed as Needed from the Sub-Toaster
I wonder if there's anyone whose birth name is Toby Wilde.
Desultory as the Camembert we feed to Mr. Mounting.
A new arrangement of days in the brown batter pulse.
Homemade, hand-drawn 70's typography,
jeans in the jeep,
all for the Crab Yellow Tube.
Pexus, the horse that flies through space.
George Harrison, lost on some easily-journeyed-to planet,
with only the fifth avatar of Jesus, Pee-Wee Herman, to guide him.
No comments:
Post a Comment