Arcus tm3 looked out
On the vistas even.
It had run a virus check
And it was receivin'.
Then clicks in the Forum Board
At the An-log haven,
Where they're writing seasonal mots
>From the stores they're savin', in.
There's a fine spagyric quest
And a random hoaxster.
Here's a reader out of pot
And he wants a toke, sir.
And a writer with no plot
Wherefore he's complaining.
He just thought he'd lurk about
To see what fen are saying, ing.
"It may be a Dry Well Run,"
Says Bewildering Stories.
"Write a vignette just for fun
Recalling antique glories.
We will look like Galaxy
If we get no message..."
Lo, who is this traveller lean
Who asks what these thoughts presay, age?
"Yonder shepherd, who is he?
Where have his flocks wandered?
They are seeking spam and lox
And they'd like a fond word."
Wenceslas is not his name;
That's like Stanislaw Lem.
But it's an odd way to spell Smith,
Reminds one of a B-E-M.
Copyright © 2002 by John Thiel