waka of budouadana: Play

PlayWhen the words won’t come,When the blank page seems to sneerWith its mute demands,The writer must lose herselfIn verbal play: her sentence.thisn wuz writ fer a fine writer i know, witch tiz fer the book she orderd. once i git my hands on her new book (hot offn the presses), i will revue it here fer yall.mean while, thays still a chants to git one of the furst 49 of shoot the devil, witch i