Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.00.1104161330220.5341@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: My Day on the Way to Pittsburgh
Date: Sat, 16 Apr 2011 13:31:41 -0400 (EDT)
My Day on the Way to Pittsburgh I caught this morning, morning's minion Who saw something as beautiful as a tree, While listening to the moaning in the bar, Around eleven, crying Nevermore. Alas, my country, it's of you, Whose love is like a bed, arose, And if you keep your wits and shout about you, I'll count the ways your wits do flout and clout you. The old order changeth, make a gnu anew The barroom's floor's face's cover's is glue. This isn't your parent's poem, mind you, Our future's in you, shoved up tight with rue. Forget everything we ever told you, We're going to rock your rocks off into the night. So what? this morning, caught the Morning Minion, Calculated tree and moaning rose and cried. That's about it, caught the 1:31, read the Onion, Slept a bit, arrived, survived.