“Make your images new,” she advised us.
“Give that storm cloud false teeth, neon lightning.
See the handsome young businessman there. Curse
him with a clown’s melting face. Have him sing
inane lyrics out of tune, scream he lost
his leg in a poker game. That old crone
begging for coins, morph her to sexy boss
of Fox News, hot looker who lives alone,
never reads but imagines she’s happy.
That dachshund just killed by a car, rebirth
him as Elvis the Archangel, flappy
wings he can’t control, air-tumbling through earth,
never saving a soul. See how with writing --
imagination -- you lie but never sin.”
Roger Armbrust
June 11, 2020
