"On a broken chess bored, the grumpy old man
deploys his dim but parading pawn,
who does as much as he possibly can,
although, unminding, he depends on brawn;
but the battle lines are already drawn.
And the old man's mind is already gone;
what is left in that skull is a quivering pale
reflection of only an epic fail---
the game's conclusion is already foregone."
---ShellySand, "Downward Slopes And Upclimbing Felines"
This poem I have used as my epigraph
have given me such a long horse laugh;
and ShellySand with the coyness of a vixen
will not confirm if he wrote this of Dick Nixon.
Starward
Starward