Stule,
the Soiling Buddha,
dreads dirty-di'per days.
No puerile pup,
Stule messes up
in"adult-lescent" ways.
His soul's a bod-
hisattiva's. But
his bod's sour creme brulees.
Poet Poe pens nonsense verse. "...plus phun," puns Uly, "I disburse." Its gamut runs from spam to worse. The matter 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.)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
What A's STILL Not For: A Revision & Reissue Of An Early Illuminated Alphabet
The 2019 original "What A's Not For," addressed to a youth and his sister, indicated one at a time in alphabetical order to th...
-
PWWL is pleased to acknowledge the participation of friend-of-blog JD in creating this item. Collaboration in name, collaboration in pro...
No comments:
Post a Comment