by Suzán Jiván
Is it impossible to watch
a somewhat crotchety codger
as a silver fox of chaos?
entombed in pickle jars
with much of the heart
put on like armor for robots
toddling with mildewy copies
of comics looming large
with subplots of the improbable
dead set against preposterous stardom
being turned on by lopsided nostrils
even if they be slightly creepy
in creature-features on family TV
like blustery bubble-gum pink bullies
themed as nubby tactility
with idiosyncratic tics strapped in...
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