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Later that very same night, our hero had a seance to contact his dear-departed muse…

 

You are correct sir,
Non-sequitur,
Another train another chain
Of thoughts like so many blocks.
Blink-a-tink-a-link
To the brink
Of another brick wall
Or again a road to nowhere.
Blink-a-link-a-clickety-trick,
The air in here is getting thick
With tangents sign and co-sign
Our names across the sky!
Oh why do I try to fly
When I’m too fat I just fall flat
I was never very good singing scat.
And nevermore will I trod the floor
To knock knock on my muse’s door
And wonder if she will enlighten me
As I type a’tick-a-clickety-snick
And roam at home
Write a pome
While I wait for the brain to reign again.

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