LOG LINE

Ach!–we are comic. The train’s
Achoo shoots like a Western
From the TV channel’s fool’s gold
Burrow: yeah, out of tunnel.

A caboose of maimed dwarfs
Led by a fat balding colonel
Throws back to Jodorowsky–
His 1970 black-clad heavy dose

Gun fighting flick of templar quest,
El Topo. A gross play on un-
masked Zoro–gallop, gallop,
Gallop. In tandem. With Hijo,

His young naked son bouncing
Like a blow-up cactus
‘til Ach!–the barb, the crunch
Of tragic, shewing Hijo

To the dark-side mission of some monks.
Thank God. Praise the sky. Praise
The desert sun. Another bastard.
Like father. So why not the son.

Meanwhile. This just in. The world
Is firm on their word that I shouldn’t
Be writing this. They spit, they say
“Now you’ll never get published.”

But I am. But I do.
From the zoo
From the mental hospital
On a Vlog not so svbtle.

The train keeps going
'cause it thinks it can
And does after taking
A pitstop at a great wall

The train breaks right through
The conductor throws out
All the commodes, the urinals
Because after hitting his head

He thinks he’s the wizard
Of Oz in a hot air balloon
Drawing straws with Ralph
Ellison’s Man who is invisible

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