Our ouija board brings out the dead. Their shadows flicker on the wall. Tall candles kiss each grizzled head Alert and waiting for the call. Impossible to name them all: Garbo, the Empress of the Sun, Vinegar Joe, Napoleon, Bill Shakespeare, natch. Our singing Swan Of Avon meditates a sonnet. The electric charges may have gone But look! I’d wager money on it, There’s something hums beneath the bonnet. See—letter after magic letter, As good as when he lived, or better! King Oliver, the Queen of Hearts, The Barons and the Baronesses, The lad o’ love, the lad o’ parts,…
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