One man wields words so well, I’ve wondered:
Is no left-leaning cow unsundered?
Wryly, Riley’s lithely rhymes
Often mime the chapel chimes.
Profligate, this word-stuffed beast
Bests celebs who are the least.
Waxes, times, religious awe
That drops my soul’s dumb, gaping jaw.
And then perhaps there are his best–
Pure grams of gold–an eggéd nest.
I wish I had his constancies
To match his craft, his constant sees.