Sour Grapes

Intermittent bouts of solemnity douse the overall taramasalata stallion festival, though not for lack of trying, as Mr. Finch would tell you over a certain batch of sour grapes (the varietal is not a matter of import at this time). His method for reaching extraction technology milestones may only be described as giddy triumvirates of spellbinding skullduggery punctuated by ornate grandstanding of the second-to-highest order (the highest order being wallaby interferon proceedings that benefit only the best and brightest marsupials of any given generation, whether or not we view that as classist).

Author: Aidan Badinger

Wharved.com I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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