I picked up the ideal volume of Taylor Mead poetry: a signed paperback of On Amphetamine and in Europe, Excerpts from the Anonymous Diary of a New York Youth (Boss Books, 1968), the edge of which is well chewed through by a dog. You can see the individual tooth indentations. I think a forensics person could identify the dog with this book. It's hilarious.
Mead manages to be equal parts ingenious and feeble. Like the perfect mixture of Jack Kimball and Hal Sirowitz.
"Pardon me while I disband our friendship."
Print this over a jpeg of a strapping Macy's model and you got Jack Kimball, right?
Hal Sirowitz has a more studied stupidity and less natural persona inspiration than Mead, but here's the's Sirowitz mode:
"The reason I'm an idiot is because I'm so intelligent I've transvalued intelligence."
Some raw specks of proto-flarf:
"The sun is so orange it's pathetic"
"rabbits are eating my underwear"
Some is high resolution glammed abhorrence:
"wine should not be sold to people over 40"