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Boon of a goon with no malice like Alice, Eugene the Jeep through the ode he doth sleep, I can't stands no more so I'll sit, I Dioscorea rotundata what I Dioscorea rotundata, Slipped twixt teeth bides the tamed leaf exposing the green-toothed monster
Farm Implements and Rutabagas in a Landscape by John Ashbery.
The first of the undecoded messages read: “Popeye sits
in thunder,
Unthought of. From that shoebox of an apartment,
From livid curtain’s hue, a tangram emerges: a country.”
Meanwhile the Sea Hag was relaxing on a green couch: “How
pleasant
To spend one’s vacation en la casa de Popeye,” she
scratched
Her cleft chin’s solitary hair. She remembered spinach
And was going to ask Wimpy if he had bought any spinach.
“M’love,” he intercepted, “the plains are decked out
in thunder
Today, and it shall be as you wish.” He scratched
The part of his head under his hat. The apartment
Seemed to grow smaller. “But what if no pleasant
Inspiration plunge us now to the stars? For this is my
country.”
Suddenly they remembered how it was cheaper in the country.
Wimpy was thoughtfully cutting open a number 2 can of spinach
When the door opened and Swee’pea crept in. “How pleasant!”
But Swee’pea looked morose. A note was pinned to his bib.
“Thunder
And tears are unavailing,” it read. “Henceforth shall
Popeye’s apartment
Be but remembered space, toxic or salubrious, whole or
scratched.”
Olive came hurtling through the window; its geraniums scratched
Her long thigh. “I have news!” she gasped. “Popeye, forced as
you know to flee the country
One musty gusty evening, by the schemes of his wizened,
duplicate father, jealous of the apartment
And all that it contains, myself and spinach
In particular, heaves bolts of loving thunder
At his own astonished becoming, rupturing the pleasant
Arpeggio of our years. No more shall pleasant
Rays of the sun refresh your sense of growing old, nor the
scratched
Tree-trunks and mossy foliage, only immaculate darkness and
thunder.”
She grabbed Swee’pea. “I’m taking the brat to the country.”
“But you can’t do that–he hasn’t even finished his spinach,”
Urged the Sea Hag, looking fearfully around at the apartment.
But Olive was already out of earshot. Now the apartment
Succumbed to a strange new hush. “Actually it’s quite pleasant
Here,” thought the Sea Hag. “If this is all we need fear from
spinach
Then I don’t mind so much. Perhaps we could invite Alice the Goon
over”–she scratched
One dug pensively–“but Wimpy is such a country
Bumpkin, always burping like that.” Minute at first, the thunder
Soon filled the apartment. It was domestic thunder,
The color of spinach. Popeye chuckled and scratched
His balls: it sure was pleasant to spend a day in the country.
Esme's Cloud 
I will tell you now, and without a moments hesitation, that finding myself not the first to like this post was horribly disappointing to me. Yes, I did consider whether or not I should even bother liking it if I were not to be the first. Of course I knew, and did tell myself, that there was nothing special about, in this instance, being first, and no prize awarded or even accolades to receive though it bothered me that I have on occasion, when being first to like something, found that I do sleep better, more soundly and longer and awake more refreshed with am excitement for taking on the day which I am afraid is not to be for some time due to the devastating affects of being second.
– The President and Founder
PS My apologies for this taking so long. I had an awful time deciding where to put punctuation marks in the above thing I wrote.
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*laughing
No apologies necessary good sir. Dale is swift with his buttoning, you best watch out for that one. Fastest presser in the west I hear.
On the bright side take heart, perhaps you recall the twenty-third rule of the Universe – ‘First the worst, second the best, third the hairy princess’? The moral of the tale being….at least you weren’t third.
Which is a sure-fire way of me dooming myself to no more than than two likes for the rest of eternity. Just to placate those who follow; it is a rule of the Universe, not one of sonmicloud’s rules. My rules are far, far more complicated, so ‘like’ away all ye throngs chomping at the bit, please.
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