"Does schmutz attack your shoulder, Mac?
Sit fallen angels there?
Does state responsibility
rest heav-...or do I err?
You've borne, perhaps, a chip? Or straps
from golf club bags which tear?
(Your coif's a jock's: no trims, no locks --
no bigly leader's hair.)
Brigitte vo' cher's been there, mon frere?
What's that, then? Laissez-faire?
(If dwarflings pose upon those shoulders,
that ain't my affair.)
They tell me that you're perfect,
and that my job's to take care
you stay that way. So, for today:
no dandruff may you wear."
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.)
Thursday, April 26, 2018
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Rev'd Spooner Meets Rev'd Carroll
He sought to thaw each thought he saw flee, frozen, from his mind. He peer'd again, then gear'd his pen, supposin' he'd...
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PWWL is pleased to acknowledge the participation of friend-of-blog JD in creating this item. Collaboration in name, collaboration in pro...
