[6301 – 6400]
From bachelor to bridegroom, his fondness
for Sophia was no affectation.
As he sez in his diary, “No mere
bluff, her sagacity would dwarf a Montague.
Her temperate mien as chaste an offense
[sic] as filthy cigars in the winged
puzzle of diversion.” As they, so we.
We mourn each elementary unit of
fearless utility, each inference
of olive, rusty with a tint of dal.
We un-cork the burgundy & sneer. We
vanish, convicted, as in the fable of Mabel
& her sweetheart, Otto, & marshal all
against the appalling rats of Amsterdam.
[5901 – 6000]
How joyful, Antonio, to crash
an elephant into Jupiter! To barrel
energetic through majestic Quebec.
Amazing to have tasted the courteous
displeasure of revolutionary
Milan & salute the repetition
of palaces & thieves. How fortunate
for swimming trunks & democratic im-
provements, that warlike Edgar choked down
repentance, his lungs decorated with
tranquil lays of granite & ivory.
How, unexpectedly, then, will she impress
a needle or compel a fold, & detach
herself aloft, away from mute torment.
[22101 – 22200]
Heavy-hearted & auricular, her
etymologies spank with gristle the
lorgnette sternum of the islander,
Carabao. “Ugh,” sortes he, at the uncalled-for
jab, his kinetic masculinity undiluted.
How pleasingly shaped is this trickster,
Melancholia, her acrobatic
mammalian periodicity, her
mementoes that unwind & inveigh
suchlike disjunction, & then suture, cupped
& disorganised, a grapevine of cluck &
fleck. “Yah, my sumptuary tadpole, my
cup-bearer, my dogcart, why girder this
lying-in? Why stereotype this searing
nova with coronal beeswax?”