Canto VI: OUR BAY
(Guanabara, San Francisco or Fundy...it all depends on who "our" refers to.)
(a work in progress)
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.)
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