A
loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou:
on
sofa bed we snuggle, kleine frau.
Shall
purse of silk we make from ear of sow...?
Come, fill the cup, and in the fire of spring...
(Don't
spill! Heads up, you pinhead: wire and string
won't
help! First, set aside your teething ring!)
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.)
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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...
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