. . . he recommended to all those who might be impressed with a sense of their importance to bury a copy or copies of each work properly...

There’s nothing like obscurity to help a poem fly!

You better go before we have a fight. (I think that I might kill myself tonight!)

Ideal punctuation marks for stuff that stuns the eyes!

Enough's a doorpost for a wife.

All that to-ing and that fro-ing, All that coming and then going!

The bow is fashioned as the wood is bent.

I was just born lucky, I suppose!

Rejoice, O fond musicians, in your craft!

This spider's caught in its own web.

How could you lose me when the time is now?

I wonder where the others went?

You should have thought of that before!

Freaked-out jots detest a weighty tittle!

Discarding them you must play rough

A citizen-patient in my dream.

Those providential tales are neither wrong nor righter.

December 22 is Global Orgasm Day

Great Kostakis came up with rules.

Breaking the bank at Monte Carlo, Muggs my cat would scorn its mice.

There’s always something—or someone— to dumb down . . .

Past and future live in our minds

Many of our customers give it a whirl.

Standing at that door, I wait.

Despite what happens, thus, I write. It helps me pass the time of night.

A reconstruction of Hekataios's world in Wikipedia. “A boar was in the mountain and he did many terrible things to the Psophidians.” —Hekataios of Miletus (ca. 550–476 BCE)   This is prose that time has turned into poetry. Everything's transforming itself, right under our noses. Boar and PsophidiIans are long gone, yet here they are. In my closet hang neckties and a bespoke suit I'll never wear again. But I don't discard them either. They have their stories, and perhaps s

The sown whirlwind bears no fruit

Grab an umbrella, keep it furled —even the rain now makes no sense!

All manner of things might well be well. But if they’re aren't, how would we tell?

Effecting a more perfect union Is what it's all about—

Some things are just too fierce to mention But I mention them here anyway!

Artificial intelligence is nothing new. It's natural wisdom that's vanished from view.

The sun has spots, a leopard, too.

A plurality of congers calls for bouillabaisse!

Miracle Whip in the Great Depression!

Found things have guided my life—

There are a million poets in the United States, All lined up waiting at the Pearly Gates.

Jesting Pilate, it's no joke, right side up the family yoke!

I might be an idiot, but I’m not a fool!

You call this “nonsense history”? And so it is—but made of words, must be!

You did not promise overmuch, Parent . . .

Don't try to catch a falling knife!

No matter how good you are, you're never good enough.

This is our stop now—the Skivalocene.

“Not without mustard, good Lord, not without mustard.”

Once built a mighty tower for the birds. But coming there, they came up with no words.

·        Chatbots gather around my knee. ·        Hear your loving grandpa’s plea.

Fortune, the Goliards knew, rules the world.

Replacing truth with meretricious farts

Just be quite sure that we can say: “They fake things fairer now today!”