Dear Sirs,
O! where among our lit’rary colossi
Finds one a site that chastens hasty looks
Requiring extra syllables to gloss? I
Refer of course to the Sherm Rev Of Books
On what o’er-widened page was it gestated?
Whose too-broad brow is it the proud purview of?
This online title critically top-rated
The stately, baggy Sherman Oaks Review Of
One needs the patience of a Saint to compass
And manage it, et cum spirito tuo
Not let your weary wits go caddy-whumpus,
Pronouncing all of Sherman Oaks Review O’
This tetra-metric bold trochaic scansion
This billboard larger than the thing it bills
This headline heading for a league expansion
This mountain for which one can’t see the hills
Might one contrive a cognomen more fleeting
To portmanteau its portliness, and free
Our reading time to focus on the reading
Of the contents of the S. O. R. of B.?
sine cero,
Brevvit R. Dangle
Poet
Dear Editor,
Not enough pitiful pictures of cats in small boxes without water.
Yrs,
Bacon Samstead,
Mandalay Cat Rescue
Sirs (I presume)
I havenoticed, when \ reading yoursyte, that you hew toa spelling and , punctuation
largely associated __ with the Earlie 20th c. A time of great ineqallit fr subjugated peoples. We’re }} watching you.
Marly Bruck
Presdent, R.C.S.R.
Reduced Clarity For Societal Reform
Oh man!
Carolina!
Why’d you go and do me like that?
In my own crib with my own… (sob)
Damn that’s cold
Respectfully,
Guy who puts letters in wrong envelopes.
RISS,
RAM A S’MORE NAG
E LEAPS
IN SLY CREE,
Elgin Fraff,
Anagrams Unlimited
Dude,
Where’s my ice cream I just bought?
It was right damn here.
Sincerely,
That same guy again
Dear Sherman Oaks,
The city at night is like a woman.
The searchlights on the rooftops are her eyes
The pulsing streets are her veins
The power lines are her hair
And the reservoirs are those sweat patches under her arms when she runs to catch a bus.
Oh wait a minute
You aren’t the city, you’re that magazine.
Never mind,
The same poet
Sirs,
Thou hast offended me and I will have satisfaction!
Roderigo,
The Duelling Magazine of Ghent
You–
Oh my God!
Great stinking Puddles of Wallaby! Everywhere!
Yours,
Girl having a bad ayahuasca trip
Camellia TWU
http://tinyurl.com/q5bfg63
