Y’all asphyxiate y’all’s brother.
Y’all’s rocks dismantle scissors…?
Y’all cry, “Boulders be my druther.”
Y’all’s scissors sever paper…?
Y’all’s one newsprint-piercin’ mother.
But…unless y’all’d suffer mutual destruction,
yaw no futher!
Uly Poe pens dogg'rel verse. "'Tis fun," hums Uly, "I disburse." The gamut runs from bad to worse. The matter treated...? Quite diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a blessing largely. (Not a curse.)
Friday, November 22, 2019
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