Madly Poeticizing

This little poem is dedicated to the nights that go "Nichtgedicht."

Icarus: Ein Nichtgedicht

Red sky at night or next morning,

sailors take freight or take warning,

though there's no true cause for to stare

as a fluttering tumbles through the air,

for a flip flopped too high or too low

gets flapped to the "to" or the "fro,"

not flipped to the "upped" nor the "downed,"

for what goes round and round just stays around:

head nor tail can surely be not both;

but either loathsome end, we'd also loath.

 

This little nichtgedicht makes no sense, but it does remind me of a Mountie Boa episode in which a group of paladins go knee . . . knee . . . knee . . .