Rondelet for Sergeant Schultz
I know nothings.
It’s an oxymoron, I know.
I know nothings,
Oh to think of it is numbing!
I know, perhaps, “I am”, although
To say this is quite apropos:
I know nothings!
Rondelet for Sergeant Schultz
I know nothings.
It’s an oxymoron, I know.
I know nothings,
Oh to think of it is numbing!
I know, perhaps, “I am”, although
To say this is quite apropos:
I know nothings!
HarverTomsson commented on Rondelet for Sergeant Schultz
07-21-2009
Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
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