you recreant dog
for eating the last waffle
I shall have your head
it’s quite a hairpiece
successfully dissembling
lobotomy scars
to be lionized
for a well-manicured lawn
the suburban dream
capes, tights, scowling masks
evil fears the banner of
the Saturnine Squad
camouflage is cool
but the snake’s real artifice
is Three Card Monty
the dominatrix
suddenly suffused in guilt
removed the ball gag
my Irish pallor
a flag of triumph that taunts
the enemy sun
the shape of that cloud
a presage from God:
“Your girl? She’s a guy.”
behold the daycare
a vast menagerie of
future nobodies
consoling father
by resurrecting mother
seemed a bit untoward
a basin aboil
sodium-soaked pumice pores
a blithe ablution
his camarilla
suggested he get rid of
his Krokus t-shirt
hey, it’s Hot Dog Man!
where is his concomitant
Baked Bean Boy Wonder?
don’t look so wayworn
it’s only five blocks to the
methadone clinic
the undead emerge
the spring in their step avers
that summer is here
Coors-sponsored frisson
meets Dow Chemical-sponsored
fortification
in the Great Conflict
my trembling enemies were
engulfed by my claque
I won’t be traduced
by your indictment of my
NAMBLA membership
the lability
of our cashier Bruce Banner
scares off customers
I dropped the joystick
unwilling to supplicate
for Tron permissions