--- K .  S I L E M   M O H A M M A D

You, Mandelbrot So-and-so, misfit letterman sweater head and kid reporter,
styrofoam drink holder nearly vacant at your attempted divorce settlement:
a knock as always sends you ambling, the mess of your last breakfast
credited wrongly but leading directly to the sofa, and the microphone scene:
ignoring the quadraphonic vocative of an unemotive concerto,
so close to docudrama in still frames amidst the bamboo ornaments:
have these excised, or wimpily remain the supplement, sore and standoffish.

You, Maribeth Immaculate Slacker,
I've all means to depict as you stood, dramatic in curious temperament:
I've a neat angle in the sibling queen's tapestry based on your sauciness,
and take careful mementos by rote from the heels of a thought you murmured:
"the little love god" fresh from your oracle as clearly annointed by pure mind,
imprinted on sweet captions that pass from temple to interesting mandible:
please, trace presents and sayings of consequence on occasion to be merry.

Earthworm Emeritus, you amicably came into prominence as speaker,
against hearing the early report on your Pyrrhonian aesthetic: a) melic blather
of agons hissing to be sworn in as embedded texts, b) prophecies and laundry lists 
torrentially strewn together, for what is there but an auditorium that needs glutting,
c) the hateful treacle turned aside, all honest leanness bare in your orbit of speech:
engraved as doubtless you are on airheads' colophons, have at your stichomythia:
hop away laced with the pinole flavoring, tame squiggle on a jocular stamp.