Of quarks and charm and ions I have seen,
Of mystic dog-ducks and of aubergine,
Of musty tomes, and of varied lands,
Of engines screaming steam to make 12 grand,
Of blades and songs and poems, and their thieving,
Of spatula delight and wintry grieving,
Of all these things, across our many shores
I've written much, and gone and writ some more.
I've talked of Tao and mystic Jayne and Shinto,
Of Rapaire's couch, astride a rusty Pinto,
Of smokey taverns where the Goddess sat,
And Little Hawks obsession with the Shat.
Of all these myriad topics,now, I tire
And to another realm of writing I aspire;
I yearn to pass the shimmering MOAB fence
And write somewhere where writing things makes sense!
Where art and craft are honored there,
And not just stolen and repainted by Rapaire.
To such a land my gaze in hope doth turn,
And finds it not; and to B.S. returns.
Returns, returns, and to B.S. returns,
A land where hero's strife the merest trifle earns.
Where men may languish where their souls have burned,
And so to MOAB's home, I have returned.

Wilford Gangagley Nuffsaid Junior
Woudst Whimper a While With Me? and Other Poems
Jejeune, Callow and Gawking, Manketo, MN, 2001