Daniela: A Near-sighted Sketch

Scarcely an artist, I tend to deal in bigger pictures, but in this fog of fewer minutes than we'd call an hour, fewer feet than we'd shake hands on to call a proper yard, with your scarlett hair steaming & leaking from your pitch-wrap bandana, screaming like your overflowing thoughts flooding your page, fluttering like a stage curtain about my face, well, for all intents I'm a blind poet, something far poorer than Milton or Homer, with less bravado than Odysseus and less pomp than Satan (slightly less), I'll draw my sketch: You speak a phrase like "knack for a word like" tinker' you're a getter-doner, a tastemaker with a taste for tasting what begs tasting, no-nonsense except for the good nonsense which softens you up like honey-butter, a keeper of what's and when's and other points of interest-beneath the W banner Efficient honk-hater, sometimes dancer, korean-dog-stamper, a fellow "are you from here?" "yes, I am from here but maybe I shouldn't be here" finger-banging-on-typewriter-keys efficient superfly cause phenomenon! And I'm out of time because unlike you I'm too verbose so I'll study your poem for me and study your ways.