Kent.
> OK, Randolph. But I guess we have very different definitions of
> "abuse". I, for one, do not see my little Minnepean pictures as
> abuse of any sort.
Oh dear. Oh fucking dear.
Are you +serious+ about this?
[I'm sure you'll be a better man when you get tenure track. Velly sorry,
love ...
<sigh>]
Kent -- an, honest, I say this in all seriousness, try to read Swift's
"Drapier's Letters".
Where you're at, where he woz.
Robin
> It was jsut a little bit of good-natured tickling. Us
> overly protocoled poets of these overly protocoled times should
> take a lesson from those now rotted Romans and tickle each other
> more often. Without warning and hard. With a stylus. In the armpit
> and in the groin. Poetry comes in different ways, and that's just
> another way that poetry can come.
>
> Give it to me, I say. Attack me, lustily. Honor me with stylish bile.
> Make me remembered when I am rotting.
>
> Hey, where's Gabriel Gudding, incidentally?
>
> Kent
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