In the ancient tradition of vituperatio, the poem of blame or censure, these little poems are a bit bawdy, a bit nasty, but good fun. Sharp darts aimed at public figures who deserve the shame.
In the ancient tradition of vituperatio, the poem of blame or censure, these little poems are a bit bawdy, a bit nasty, but good fun. Sharp darts aimed at public figures who deserve the shame.
Hoping for a cure.
Fuck cancer!
www.nytimes.com/athletic/688...
bookshop.org/p/books/the-...
bookshop.org/p/books/the-...
bookshop.org/p/books/the-...
bookshop.org/p/books/the-...
bookshop.org/p/books/the-...
bookshop.org/p/books/the-...
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker.
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker.
Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea
Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea