Owe, To Hack... Poem by delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........

and to smack...
and don't want you should give it no slack.....

there's a constant deliverin', bloobles...
like the bubbles drained down from the noodles....
in the sink, and the brink
of the edge of the simmerin' squink
has a flavor of multi-sludged gleanings
all awash in a sea of fraught meanings....

bobie oh-dough...
where does it go...
over the top
is it a crop
of crinkle-crimped blues...
does it wear shoes...

is it hip
does it flip
over treetops
and is it worth scrip

can't tell if it's freezin' or boilin'
with the ludic underpinnings roilin'

but it's here....if unclear...
with the metaphors dunked in near beer...

on a beech...owlets screech...
.mechronicled drones out of reach....

in a sub-subterranean flumelet
there's a broadly-excusified room, let
to interswunk dramafied doom sweat....

now it's through....whoop-ti-doo....the hooves
have been melted for glue....
yep...it's through...and so hip....so, so hip....
like a faucet that won't cease to drip....
so, so hip......