Sidney: Buck Up, Astrophil

It’s sad that you think
that even women on the moon
would turn you down. Ouch.

Ashbery: Kevin Again Struggles with 20th–Century Poetry

Perhaps I’m being
obtuse, but WHAT THE FUCK DOES
ANY OF THAT MEAN?

Malory: Polysyllabic Arthurian Assholes

Turns out “Guinevere”
and “Launcelot” are hard names
to cram into a

More: The Purges Will Begin on Tuesday

My ideal kingdom
has just one law: no pants. And
no fugly people.

Poe: It’s Not the Same Usher? Oh, Nevermind

The saddest part is
that there’ll be no more hot beats
to mac ladies with.

H.D.: Well, That’s Not Actually Poetry

Look—I can be an
Imagist, too: seashell, moon,
tree, Amen, anus.

The Faerie Queene: Elizabeth, Age 63, Lacking Teeth and Hair

There is not enough
allegory in the world to
make that bitch pretty.

Shelley: But Then Again, You Never Did Anything Good For Humanity

I wish it was you
out there on that rock, getting
your liver pecked out.

Langland: Reason #3,428 Why My Life Is Nothing Like "Piers Plowman"

In my dreams, I don’t
see Jesus—just the usual
face-eating monkeys.

Franklin: I'll Get You the Money By Tuesday, I Swear

I can see why you’re
on the twenty, Ben: you’re a
dick about money.

Ellison: From the White, Male Establishment

Mister Narrator,
on behalf of us all, I
want to say: our bad.

Wycherley: Mrs. Pinchwife’s Infidelity Is Just…

More proof that I should
keep locking Jessie in the
basement while I’m out.