Evening(morning), folks, Usually I ignore dropped gauntlets, maybe I'll regret picking this one up... Here goes.

Zymurgy is the art of brewing As some you may recall But I had to find it in the dictionary Cause I got no vocabulary at all

Dense I am, thick as a post and Exceptionally un-wellread; ('cept fer Harlequins, Louis L'amour, Judith Krantz Ibsen, Joyce[james] and Chaucer )

Just now I've let in the cat, and this is ironic, her Knack for poesy is more Mewling than, say, Byronic

Not to underrate her earthshaking Oratorical skills - she used them convincingly that time she was full of Porcupine Quills

Returning to the creation of lines indexed alphabetically Sunday at midnight (he said, parenthetically) Takes the cake in terms of all the hours available Unless you're looking to publish or make your work salable

Very often, it seems, you end up looking like a jerk, when you send off the poem without proofreading your Werk. But I fear not the critics- on them a pox! If there's worth in these words may they meet a Xerox. I know this offering is far from poetic, but shucks i hope You might find it a just a little zoetic.

Cheers, bUphill