Whose dream is of lobsters? He'll buckle to mobsters.
Whose dream is of cheese? She'll be cropp'd at the knees.
Whose dream is of eggs gets prosthetics. (Or pegs.)
Whose dream is of bread? He's smack'd upside the head.
Whose dream is of wine? She'll be pickl'd in brine.
Whose dream is of trout? He gets punch'd in the mout.’
But the dreamers whose dreams are of wedgemussel shells
must prepare for subjection to all
sorts of hells.
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.)
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
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Rev'd Spooner Meets Rev'd Carroll
He sought to thaw each thought he saw flee, frozen, from his mind. He peer'd again, then gear'd his pen, supposin' he'd...
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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...
