Monday, November 14, 2011

Owen Wister Whines Back to Robert Louis.

Let us fetch little foxes, little foxes that blunder
into our vineyards, little foxes in hot pants,
corvettes, and calling plans.

Let us browse on lilies, even though
we look like the figures of Botero.

Doctor Peacock has studied the ancient wines
as exported from the coast of Tyrrhenia.

At Pylos we found foxes, and there profoundly partied.
It is strange to think of a sleek telephone with the body
of a girl or boy. It is strange to think at all, and stranger still,
to speak.