PREFACE
Ahh what be the Poet a Poet once said “who alive can say “ Thou art no Poet-mayest not tell thy dreams since every man who is not a clod hath visions would speak” But Ahh how canst he tell his visions whenst he doth writ andst not to speak Well I willst tell with poor wit for no Poet be I so how doth a real Poet speak well the Muse thru he or she doth flow andst his or her identify doth But go andst out his or her minde fine inventions fine wit fine words fine rhetoric the lines doth But flow But be writ by themselves do fall uponst the page ast leaves that shower or fruit to drop fromst the minde that do not age fromst a Muse kissed brain all that be writ to entertaine like perfume that fromst a bloom blows the Muse thru he or she the poesy throws whenst the Pot identy individuality doth go