Riddles
{A Bumbershoot Special Feature}


Edmund Conti

is a Brown man born, a Brown man bred and when he dies he’ll be a Brown man dead but he wishes they would stop asking him for money. They have more than he does.

In spite of his Ivy League education, Edmund has been a featured poet in Light Quarterly and won the Willard Espy Foundation Prize for Light Verse in 2001. (Note to Brown: he has since spent all that $1000.)


—Back to Bumbershoot Contents—

Oh, What a Scrambled Web We Weave!

The first thing that you have to know
If you want to know the score—
There never is just one of us.
We work in pairs, or more.

You may be somewhat addled by
This riddle we have fixed up,
But don’t despair, for to be sure
You’ll end by being mixed up.

Here’s a little hint for you
Unshackling all your fetters:
Pretend your mailman’s going postal,
Re-routing all your letters.

By now, I’m sure, you’ve said “Aha!”
We commend your firm resolve.
It’s the kind of riddle, you’ll agree
That everybody loves to solve.

Solution
 
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