Fifteen hours and fifteen days was all your fragile mind could take before it crashed to ground like broken glass. But I don’t mind. I’m reading the Sunday Comics; feels like I’m almost done.

I been dipped in double meaning; I been stuck with static cling; Think I got a rupto-pac; Think I got a big mac attack — hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders don’t upset us, all we as is that you let us serve…

Once again, there are no humans who’ve escaped from a country outside the local deli. Not one soul loses their identity! Not one drop have I written! We’re always the people of the other — basic closed dialogue, grumpened, in place of phage! Why don’t…

With the birds and the beach and the lake and the river You call and I come hither When it’s day off and sun shine and everyone’s kind and time is slow and you know it in the Sunday Comix – there is goodness in…

You viddy at the cheena, choodesny with the red rot libbilubbing litso-fitso. Devotchka watch her garbles Sunday with the Comics, split a ded from his deng deng. “Viddy viddy at the cheena! Girl loves me!”

No, there’s the Sunday Comics; I just get up and walk away. “If it ain’t broke, don’t try to fix…” Well, life’s supposed to be this way. Now everything is going wrong — I think I changed my mind again — I’m not sure if…

In a painted foreground at the bottom is a famous anamorphic which, when viewed side-long, is revealed to be the Sunday Comics.

Words are few I have spoken, I could waste a thousand years. Sunday Comics, words are token; come inside and catch my tears. You’ve been talking but, believe me, if it’s true you do not know.

Now they’re frightened of leaving it; everyone’s weaving it, Sunday Comics all the time…All through the day, I me mine.

The yam brought it out of the Sunday Comics, manipulated Bill Clinton with desires…24/7, 365 days times two, I was contemplatin’ gettin’ on stage just to go back to the hood see my enemies and say, “Man, where you when I was walkin’?”