Hello, Earwicker.
Your tribes and tribblations
are Chicagos to our eighteen
ears. Wee into the hold
and let the manifest shower
destinies onto ports of Rico
and shatter the monicker
which holds nomenclature's
streets to the ire. That is
tortuous by any label,
a mortuary with any cable,
given to telegrammatic
mornings and short messages
that always or their eithers.
Grammarians! Riparian your
Bostons and consider closely
the name of your band of merry
mordant knaves. Knives as well
demanding their supply curves
to make thatchings that high-ack
into the randian motion, mostly
random, unpredictable, and free
as a market stone blue jay. Give
me your adjectives and slather
another blather unto the whoa
man, for a given stated cultural icon
must stand for power and dimnance
and the dance of fools who cannot
help themselves but believe that
survival is the purpose of godd
(two-d, never three).
Roman Ryan 