Cho on Eminem.
"A Cento from Pale Fire"
No furtive light came from their involute
Snails leave on flagstones; this good ink, this rhyme
The crowding gulls insufferably loud,
But always present, ran through me. One day,
Part of your shadow near the shagbark tree.
And then there was a kind of travelog:
Spied on it yet. Now I shall cry out as
Who's climbed the Matterhorn. The other piece
A hint of angels, and a glint of stained
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