One ponders
twin strands
as one wanders
through lands
where no
circumspect man’s ever been.
And none more
than the one
where the men
are all women
and all of the
women are men.
Guys are gals. Moms are Dads.
Sisters? Bros! Lasses? Lads!
Boys are girls. L’hommes are femmes. So it goes.
Hes are shes.
Hims are hers.
But a question occurs:
How’s one know
how one knows how one knows?
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.)
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Composed and illustrated in 2019, each verse of poetaster Ulysses ("Uly") Poe's illuminated nonsense lyric "What A's ...
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