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.)
Friday, February 8, 2019
Those Antilipos, Those Antieyesores!
Stanza two below appears identical to stanza one. Yet does a close reading of that stanza provide affect identical to that provided by a close reading of the first?
Meet Mr. Peter E. DeVere.
He's penn'd these verses -- penn'd 'em well.
There's ten 'n' seventeen 'e's here.
(Seen here? Ten newer 'e's. Hell's bell!)
Where next these verses' feet be met,
we'll feel Pete's fresher sense, we bet.
Meet Mr. Peter E. DeVere.
He's penn'd these verses -- penn'd 'em well.
There's ten 'n' seventeen 'e's here.
(Seen here? Ten newer 'e's. Hell's bell!)
Where next these verses' feet be met,
we'll feel Pete's fresher sense, we bet.
et.
Meet Mr. Peter E. DeVere.
He's penn'd these verses -- penn'd 'em well.
There's ten 'n' seventeen 'e's here.
(Seen here? Ten newer 'e's. Hell's bell!)
Where next these verses' feet be met,
we'll feel Pete's fresher sense, we bet.
Meet Mr. Peter E. DeVere.
He's penn'd these verses -- penn'd 'em well.
There's ten 'n' seventeen 'e's here.
(Seen here? Ten newer 'e's. Hell's bell!)
Where next these verses' feet be met,
we'll feel Pete's fresher sense, we bet.
et.
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