|New London's Poetry War Continues Halfheartedly.|
I dialed up a certain, reserved frequency on the shortwave, and an interesting tete-a-tete ensued. Never one to engage in fisticuffs or foul language, and certainly not the kind of gentleman who would do anything untoward to a lady's reputation, I decided to let revision be the better part of valor. Every hint of incriminating evidence has been removed.
With a tip of the fedora to the stars in New London's firmament. If there is a spirit to New London, it plays the harpsichord in a Bank Street basement, telegraphing its intent across the cosmos. A rising tide raises all schooners, no matter which way the flag blows.
Another link to the original post in question.