If invited to my house, kindly park in spaces marked POETRY LOVERS ONLY. Violators will be towed away in chains to the Dark Tower. Giant speakers will churn out iambic pentameter until morning when you beg for terza rima. But Terza Rima is on sabbatical this semester. Her half blood sister Spondee of the Deep will assuage your terror and rescind all violations. Ring the bell and remove all clothing. Proper attire will be furnished in the pre-bellum ante-room. One of you will be given a Darth Vader full body armor suit regardless of gender or skin color. Another guest shall be dressed as Barbie, regardless of anatomical correctness. Late arrivals, please fight over the remaining costumes befitting Jesus, Oscar Wilde, or Emily Dickinson. You will be given fortune cookies containing hand signed images by Ezra Pound. Magnetic poetry is on the refrigerator. Edgar Allan Poe cocktails are in the drawing room. Scrabble winners will receive copies of Edgar Guest and Joyce Kilmer as a lesson in abject humility. Of course, even verse must come with a price—we don’t accept American Express. But everybody has to pay the poetry piper—ass, grass, or gas. No words will ever be cheerfully refunded.