No, Holmes, I regret to inform you
That the prescription was for
Cortisone, not courtesans;
And the instructions specified quite
Clearly "fever-reducing rest," though you
Profess my clear Spencerian hand
To be so blurred as to mryygghisd and frounth.
I would look to your syringe for
The source of your visions and
Voices, and am not overly enthralled
By your summons, couched as it is in
Such phrases as "The hunt is now,
While the game's abed."
As to your immanent departure for
"The fleshports of the continent,
In which I mean to stew until I have
Absorbed sufficient juices to withstand
Another onslaught of sanity,"
I can only urge upon you a less
Rudderbound hidelessness and greater
Care for the effortean squiggles just
Beneath the stamp you have glaubrously
Asked me to lick and affix in the STRIATIONS
So kindredly wedded to the heathen surface
Of this great Jungle (Our Mother's lair) hidden
In the lustrous fibers of the all-encompassing
Envelope of the Heavens that you shall
Host-paste from my herewith be dispatched soonest.
The porters are struggling to pack me,
But I shall be with you anon.
Ever your Obd't Cervantes