Limb rogued olio, thou art
a historie of a yong childe in Rome
called Papirius whose
continuance, acts, and undue
prominence would khubber
the buku, three cyaths of water
to break the inward Imposthumes.
I remember Rasay, coarse table
all achildrenned and goodly,
Captain Cocke's business of hemp,
thou art a historie of a yong childe
in Rome, Will Hewer hiding in the cellar
waltzing lady rats through purple flowing
holes, surely the Soule hath the reliqu'd
Impressa's of divine virtue, the inordinate
longitude of the organ may be a meanes
to improflicate the seed, in rust lies
the oval head:
I see glass leaves
through a cylinder of water
[look through water]
those leaves shaped like cellos
though they be harmonicas
Eflustrans, or
Meschara
beaked windows
to look out upon
the rushing bay
and rays
to bracket the thing
in fierce and primal
nudi-rostrum
ars unum via una
earth itself an apothegm
