Just a story of a (cow)boy and his (old) gnu.
Picture this incident vivid:
young David, a cowpuncher avid,
to saddle his
livid old bovid,
must fervid be, nor know not 'pavid.'
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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