His news is fake. His nous is fake.
(His gnus…? Fake too, folks feel.)
Now he, with (thanks to Jewish kin)
fake “…nu…?”s must daily deal.
Still, I ain't dim. When hanging him,
I'll check his noose is real.
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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