The Anecdote of the Jar In a poetic mood, so I thought I'd destroy some Stevens: He ate a jar of may-o-naise /  and round he was, just like a hill. / He made his slovenly feeding waste / surround that hill. And the feeding waste grew up on him / and sprawled around and rotted, vile. / The hill was round upon the couch / Not tall, producing fetid air. His fupa flowed out everywhere. / The jar was empty, bare. / He'd never see his bird or bush / Obscured they were by may-o-naise.