A light on yonder window breaks!
What far-begotten tastycakes
Have loomed within the minds of men
To poison dreams with images
Clucked up like rocks from gizzards red
To stay the rest of sleepy heads
Pureéd with dust of dying fish
That from this harrier’s net did slip
So life is worn like tattered socks
Held up by garters, leaving bare
The unpruned toenail, bulbous heel
And bunions Dr. Scholl won’t dare
To shave with savage emery boards
As though defeat to muddle toward
When from this sleep the deacon steps
No trace remains of the world he left
No campus radio, t-shirt transfers,
Cornflake drones, or body snatchers
When from sleep this geek arises
All he’ll see are booby prizes
Won by feet through yards of gauze
Adhesive-taped to athlete’s claws
The game is over, it’s a draw.
