It was a bright cold day in April...
...what AI call'd "a boy's tiring drip"...
...just how tiring the drip could become young Winston would discover all too soon...
Poet Poe pens nonsense verse. "Plus...phun," puns Uly, "I disburse." Its gamut runs from spam to worse. The po'sy posted...? Poe's diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a mitzva, mostly. (Not a curse.)
No comments:
Post a Comment