Ugh!

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I could wriggle like a pickle A doughty dowager acting tough2 Old people suck at steering How much doughnut is enough?

Is this roughly how I should type it, Conspicuous as an orange angel?3 If you’re tough enough I’m rough enough Restless as a mangy dog with scabies.

If you have a bad cold then you’ll cough, Stock still like a deer in the taillights, I hope I don’t have to rough you up and then crack open a beer.4

That ho better have my dough. Ugh, she shot me, Cough, cough, ugh!

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Not only the title but the plan and a good deal of the incidental symbolism of the poem were suggested by a random poem generating robot that I purchased on e-bay and programmed to generate a sonnet using near rhymes, sight rhymes and internal rhymes, instead of the conventional end rhymes. Indeed so deeply am I indebted to this random poem generating robot that s/he could perhaps elucidate the difficulties of the poem much better than my notes can do. Bizarre portions of the poem may have been caused by the contact between a wrench and the robot’s head one day when I was in a foul mood and 5 irritated with it. For indeed I myself have seen with my own eyes the Sibyl hanging in a bottle at Cumae, pickle-like, wriggling, and acting tough, and when those boys would sa y to her “Sibyl, what do you want?” she would reply, “How much doughnut is enough?” The poet Guido Dixon, encountered by Dante in Purgatory, spoke of visions of orange angels : “Comment ils aiment, les gens, les anges aux fesses oranges!” Quoted directly from the burial service of the Anglican church. For a deeper understanding of the necessity for poems to have footnotes at all, and a model for what such footnotes might say, see the footnotes to T. S. Eliot’s long poem, The Waste Land.

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