With Poe-try you can surely
get your Words' worth.
So many words are waiting
like a Wolfe at your door,
for their Cummings into being.

If you listen, they Pound
upon your brain
They Lamb-aste your viscera,
making you Nash your teeth.
They create a Millay in your head.
So many shapes, so many Hughes!

Lusting for Moore, they Lear
at you when you least expect.
Look back at them!

Like Frost upon the windowpane
they write themselves,
then, when all is said and Donne,
melt away too soon.

Grasp them when you can.
Put them in a Rowe.
Taylor them to your muse,
use your Whit, man!