by Mark Blaeuer
Divinely, Jackie Robinson
of Dodgers fame walked out: New York,
up Gower street, yet dwelling on
gigantic bears who punished pork-
ly kids appalled
at Elisha the Bald.
So all Egyptian deities
a rainbow of molybdenum
did huff, begetting Jesus-knees
and Catalan’s Talmudic sum.
My tongue, I wot,
surpriseth Their robot.
Turn now to Billy yearning here:
his Juliet is comatose,
embedded in the very near
half-century, her cricket dose.
If paradise sport pips,
TIFF Elvis hips.
Connect two more antipodes.
Harshad-abundant-pronic Loire.
Hey, Disco Biscuits on CDs.
Indelicate? No, Strigaskór.
Kaleidoscopic hens
eat citizens.
Regard the Math Olympiad
(see hundred per). A way sub-par
green jacket. Lewis Carroll, rad
unto his death. Ummi Kumar
is not a Beast but holed
dominion’s gold.
Enough. Why should I prate of oil-
to-barrel gallonage, diffuse
Orion Nebula, Fred Hoyle,
the NatWest Tower? Too abstruse.
“How Not to Be Seen”
entertains a queen.
Go then, you made of Størmer stuff
and overlocking CPUs,
lest Hack and honeycomb be tough
and sphenic magic sing the blues.
X-factors byte indeed,
you must concede.
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