The stang, in
Oslo, measures stuff.
At three-plus yards, it’s long enough.
The Gnats...? Just quiz
the RAF:
jet engine noise leaves flyboys deaf.
The Tangs are
either “swigs in space”
or kingdoms with a Chinese face.
The Tsang...? A
province in Tibet
where’s writ a Lhasan alphabet.
The gnats are
tiny flying pests
who put the bite on party guests.
'Beganst’'s
abbreviated ‘‘ganst.’
(Don’t say thou say it can’t: thou canst.)
Your angst --
your deep, distressing dread --
won’t let you leave your Murphy bed.
A dead or dying
spark’s a gnast.
It's out...? They've snuff'd your flame at last.
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Friday, March 23, 2018
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