When I was younger I rushed to judgement about a website of some importance:
But what a fool I was to tweet that gag, RW!
Things are… clearer these days. Don’t you find? There is a certain savage logic to your moderation after all—a bloody law men must begrudge, but not deny.
In remorse I penned 75 percent of a rubāʿī:
The Moving Finger, having twat,
Cannot untweet a jot
Of what it twot.
But what a fool I was, RW, to write that near-rubāʿī!
I’m older now, and more computer-twiterate.
There is a can of trash. A can I could not see, but now I can. Beside that can, an unseen hand hath writ: Delete!
One can detweet! But dare I, bother I delete?
No; though I grow old,
That be not how I roll.