‘Tis comme il faut
that Wolfgang chose art.
(Which Wolf…? Amadh
A.
S. (“Wolf”) Sartre.)
So: Aunt Flo (we’re told she knows art)
crows, "Wolf’s glows -- his beaucoup beaux-arts --
most unlike Great-uncle Joe's art
--
calendars with 'ho's-in-hose art.”
(Asks each poser: “D'you suppose
art
apropos of Wolf's rondeaus art
blows away Joe’s status
quo's art…?)
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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Mushruminations; or, 'Shrooms With a View
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