Sonnet

Rough winds shatter a pane of plexiglass,
Angel Cretin cries monster agony;
Tor Johnson zombie roams the dream streets,
Bad music plays from under the graveyard;
William Burroughs is the old junkie priest;
Salamie Ship crashes by the dime store,
Who goes tapping at the old chamber door?
Not I, says the man in the dried painting;
Now Laundromat Joe eats the walnut meat,
No glot clom fliday, Nov schmoz ka pop, toot sweet.