wake up, rod

Hey all, this is going to seem super lame after the inordinate amount of time I took to complete this assignment, but no matter how hard I tried for a five-part epic, the poem wanted to be a one-hit-wonder. So I slaved over this little ditty and exchanged a lot of packets in my pursuit of inspiration. Some links I traveled to are at the bottom, though I lost track of many others. One prerogative: I'm trying to challenge myself to write longer lines. Nonetheless, sorry for the sleight of hand, and I think neither the poem nor the puns should be easily forgiven. Carry me there in concrete shoes The fop's a flop, Billie Jean: No one believes he's a Jackson. Daughter Darling does, at least, believe love is another sequined glove: ugly with the effort of animation where once was. Jack White makes a living off this knucklebeat, plays it so we can feel it fuck up our bloodheat. See, a synesthete of finger and fantasy can come pretty in the face of baseballsand flesh and feel ...